


Aeipathy

by Yggdrastiles (hauntedsilences)



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Because I really wanted to use that tag, Because they're a couple of nerds okay?, Blow Jobs, Bottom Hannibal, Bottom Will, Cock Worship, Cranky Will, Declarations Of Love, Domestic Fluff, Dry Humping, First Time, Fluff, Hand & Finger Kink, Hand Jobs, Hannibal loves Will's ass, Hurt/Comfort, Jealousy, M/M, Making Up, Marriage Proposal, Massage, Miscommunication, Murder Husbands, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Rough Sex, Sappy Murder Husbands, Smut, The Tum, There's a reason Chiyoh skipped town when she did, They can't be bothered to remove necessary clothing, This is about a hop skip and a jump away from daddy kink..., Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Top Hannibal, Top Will, What else is new?, Will is a Jealous Bitch, Will loves being called 'boy', hand holding, laundry!Hannibal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-13
Updated: 2016-11-24
Packaged: 2018-08-08 11:30:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 34,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7756072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hauntedsilences/pseuds/Yggdrastiles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aeipathy: "A continued passion; an unyielding disease."<br/>----<br/><em>You have been baptized by the sea, Will. Born again into your true self. </em></p><p>  <em>We both have.</em></p><p>  <em>What then, have I become? </em></p><p><em>Mine.</em><br/>----</p><p>Will and Hannibal recover from their fall into the Atlantic on board a ship Chiyoh so helpfully procured. The boys have some much-needed conversations, Will decides on what side of morality he lies, and they plan their next moves, all amid truly tooth-rotting fluff, a lot of smut, and general cuteness ♥</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This has at least one more chapter (which is about halfway done), possibly two, depending on my levels of inspiration lol  
> All mistakes are mine, please let me know if you spot anything ♥  
> Enjoy! :D

_ It's beautiful. _

 

Those had been the last words that Will had spoken before the waves claimed them both. The salty water invaded his lungs, no matter how close to Hannibal he pressed. He fought to keep them afloat, one arm wrapped around Hannibal's ribs, probably painfully tight, considering his injuries, but Will refused to lose him. Not now, not after everything they'd been through. 

 

They were thrown against a rock, sharp edges carved by relentless waves, and Will held on tight. It was easier than treading water, even if the waves rattled his bones with every impact. He couldn't say how long they held on like that, only that Hannibal was unconscious for most of it and Will couldn't afford to let his eyes drift closed or his awareness fade. 

 

The sharp whistle that startled him, clearly audible over the waves, probably due to the direction the wind was blowing, alerted him to Chiyoh’s presence in a boat he'd failed to notice arriving, much to his chagrin. 

 

She hauled them both on board, firmly solidifying the idea in Will’s mind that she was something more than human. She had to be, to have performed that feat alone, and countless others after. 

 

Will lost consciousness some time after both he and Hannibal were safely aboard. His vigil now complete for the time being. He was distantly aware of a few things happening in his peripheral, the very edges of his awareness. He wasn't freezing, for one, and his clothes were soft and dry, so rationally he knew Chiyoh must have dressed him, but he didn't have the processing capabilities to care. 

 

It was in this same way that he knew the warmth beside him to be Hannibal, and that same warmth allowed him to rest, knowing Hannibal was alive at least. If he was alive, there was still hope. 

 

The itching of several wounds let him know not only that they'd been treated, but they were healing. He didn't think he had a fever, and having lived several months with one, he figured he'd know, so he likely didn't have an infection. He couldn't tell with Hannibal, though, not being familiar enough with the man's body heat, a fact he mentally grieved and vowed to rectify as soon as possible. 

 

He drifted in this manner for what he'd later find out to be a little over a week. 

 

Waking up, when it finally did happen, happened so slowly that Will wasn’t sure he wasn’t still dreaming. He couldn’t remember any of his dreams, most of them filled with color and emotion and sound, rather than any concrete details. 

 

The room he was in was dark, but there were beams of sunlight filtering in near the door, providing just enough light for him to get a good look at his surroundings. There was the distinctive back and forth rocking that he knew was the ocean, and that alone was comforting, familiar. 

 

Then he became aware of the body next to him, the scent and the heat of Hannibal lying beside him. He turned his head to look at him, wincing at sore neck muscles, and was struck by how close Hannibal was to him. Sure, he knew that their sides were pressed together, but he didn’t expect Hannibal’s face to be  _ right there _ . 

 

Hannibal looked peaceful, despite having clearly lost weight. His cheeks were sunken in, and a little too waxy to be healthy. Hannibal had lost quite a bit of blood and had probably needed surgery. Had Chiyoh been the one to perform surgery? She must have been, unless she had kidnapped a doctor to do it for her. Somehow, Will rather doubted that. 

 

He wasn’t sure how long he spent lying there, staring at Hannibal. Time had no meaning here, or anywhere, anymore. The room grew gradually darker, and then Chiyoh came in to check on them. 

 

She didn’t seem particularly surprised that Will was awake, but then she’d never seemed particularly surprised by anything. Not after she’d been attacked by her prisoner. Had it only been three years ago? It felt like a lifetime. 

 

Chiyoh didn’t speak, and Will didn’t expect her to. He just watched as she went through a routine familiar to her. She checked their IV’s, then changed all of Hannibal’s bandages, checking and cleaning the wounds underneath as she went. Will only barely managed to contain the myriad of questions he had.  _ How was Hannibal? Would he be okay? When would he wake up? _ He knew Chiyoh would only answer with her usual disdain. He supposed he’d earned it. As the closest thing Hannibal had to family, it fell on her to give the “ _ you break his heart, I’ll break your face _ ” speech. Not that she had, of course. No, she’d cut to the chase and put a bullet in him instead. Will wondered if things might have been different if she’d threatened him beforehand. Probably not. Will’s thoughts had still been muddled at that time. Right now, his mind was blissfully blank, and he intended on capitalizing on the reprieve. 

 

When Chiyoh was done with Hannibal, she moved on to Will, her touches a lot rougher than she’d been with Hannibal, but Will supposed he deserved that, too. He bore it stoically, accepting it as was his due.  _ I’m sorry _ . It was on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t bear to speak it. Those words, if they were to be spoken at all, would be for Hannibal alone. His last words had been for Hannibal, and so would his first. He imagined Hannibal would have a metaphor to make out of this situation. He always had. 

 

_ You have been baptized by the sea, Will. Born again into your true self.  _

 

_ We both have. _

 

_ What then, have I become?  _

 

_ Mine. _

 

Chiyoh left the room as suddenly and as silently as she’d come, and a few moments later Will wondered if he’d imagined her. But no, the lingering soreness reassured him he wasn’t losing his mind. Not again. 

 

\-------

 

From then, Will began to notice improvement on his part, at least. With him consistently awake now, Chiyoh brought him food, soups and broths, rather than feeding him intravenously. The IV was slipped out and put away, and Will was able to move around freely. Not that he had much strength for that at the beginning. It was only about three days after he started eating again that he was able to make it to the bathroom and back to bed on his own, something for which he was very grateful. The slow rocking motion of the boat made him feel like a toddler learning to walk for the first time. He supposed it would fit in nicely with his Mind-Hannibal’s rebirth metaphor, and the thought made him smile slightly. 

 

He was a little late in realizing that Chiyoh had been sedating them both, and was probably still doing so with Hannibal. Presumably to make sure they received the rest they needed, although Will had the rather uncharitable suspicion that it was also because she didn’t quite feel like dealing with either of them.

 

She still didn’t talk to him, not that Will was particularly bothered by it. But he made sure to keep a close watch when she tended to Hannibal. Not because he didn’t trust her, he trusted her with Hannibal just fine, but rather because he was beginning to grow worried that Hannibal hadn’t woken up yet, and he wanted to find out if she was still sedating him without actually having to ask. 

 

She noticed his behavior or course, a flat look every time he did, but he wasn’t trying to be subtle. But he decided he was right to be worried because he hadn’t seen her sedate Hannibal, and didn’t think she’d go through the trouble of waiting until Will fell asleep to do so. 

 

“Infection.” She declared several days later, and it was almost jarring that it was the first word Will had heard since waking. He had nodded and watched her add antibiotics to his IV. 

 

Will was capable of walking around the boat for the most part, enough to find out that it was large enough to be comfortable for the three of them and that it was outfitted with enough supplies to last a couple months at least. Will was beyond impressed. How had any of this been arranged on such short notice? Had Hannibal known he’d escape, or had he prepared this over three years in advance? Or was it entirely Chiyoh’s doing, acting entirely independent of Hannibal? Just wondering about it made his head swim. 

 

That night he felt well enough to shower, turning the water as hot as he could bear it, and letting the stream beat against sore and abused muscles, his wounds safely wrapped in plastic. The water and the steam cleared his mind in a way that he hadn’t known he needed, and let him truly evaluate his conditions. 

 

He hadn’t expected either of them to survive, but Will couldn’t quite find it within himself to complain. He knew Hannibal wouldn’t be reentering that prison cell, not ever again if he could help it. Will knew Hannibal would escape. It was his own fate that surprised him. 

 

Will couldn’t quite say what compelled him to pull them over the edge. The moments before, he had felt nothing but an extraordinary sense of calm, their tumble into the waves beneath them had seemed a logical conclusion at the time. 

 

Will didn’t think he’d ever had a  _ death wish _ , per se, but he’d been realistic about his projected lifespan, given his job and then his friendship with Hannibal. He just...wasn’t the same man anymore, and maybe he’d never been. Where had Molly and Walter’s Will gone? He had died at the bottom of the ocean, and maybe that’s what Will had tried to accomplish after all. Maybe the metaphor laden voice of Hannibal that he heard in his head wasn’t that far off at all. Maybe it really was a rebirth he’d been after. 

 

Out with the old, in with the new. 

 

Will was new. He was himself, but much improved, subjectively speaking. His mind had never been clearer, or more resolved than it was now. He and Hannibal had clawed their way out of the grips of the sea, and damn it all, Will wasn’t about to let him go again. 

 

\------------

 

When Hannibal woke up, Chiyoh left. 

 

She had just finished tending to his injuries, Will vigilantly following her every move, when Hannibal’s eyelids began to flutter. He was by Hannibal’s side in an instant, uncaring that Chiyoh left the room almost immediately. Much later, Will would emerge from the cabin to find Chiyoh mysteriously gone and a letter left on the table, written in a startling combination of what Will could only assume was Lithuanian and Japanese. The deliberate effort to make sure he was unable to read it would almost be enough for Will to throw it overboard out of spite, but he wouldn’t. 

 

“Han-Hannibal?” Will asked, throat raspy and dry from disuse. 

 

Hannibal met his eyes and his lips, cracked and dry and so unlike him, twisted into a small, pained smile. “Will...” he breathed, a mere whisper of breath that Will wasn’t even sure he’d heard or imagined. 

 

He kept a glass of water by his bedside, along with a jug of water so he didn’t have to keep walking back to the galley, and he poured some water for Hannibal and helped him sit up so he could drink it. Will kneeled on the bed beside him, cradling Hannibal’s head with one palm while the other brought the glass to Hannibal’s lips. 

 

Hannibal drank in slow sips and Will was careful to tilt the glass at an angle he could drink from safely. After half the glass was gone, Hannibal made a soft noise and Will removed the cup, placing it back on the nightstand. 

 

“How do you feel?” Will asked. “Are you in pain?” His brows drew together in worry. Chiyoh had kept him well dosed on painkillers and he hoped it was the same for Hannibal. 

 

Hannibal watched him with interest and after clearing his throat, attempted to speak. “I am about as well as can be expected, Will.” He said, velvet voice now roughened considerably. “But I’m not in pain, at present.” 

 

Will nodded, that was good. That was definitely good. 

 

“How long have I slept?” Hannibal asked and Will could do little more than shrug.

 

“I woke up about a week ago, I think. Keeping track of time has been difficult.” He admitted. “I can’t really tell how long I was asleep for, though.” 

 

Hannibal frowned at this and Will could see him visibly process the information. “Chiyoh?” He asked after a moment. 

 

“Yeah.” Will confirmed. “Haven’t talked to her, though.” He admitted with a wry grin that tugged uncomfortably at the scar on his cheek. 

 

Hannibal raised an eyebrow, “Have I heard your first words, Will?” He asked, almost as if he instinctively knew the metaphor that Will had been entertaining the past few days. It was such a familiar quality to their conversations that Will couldn’t help the way he continued to smile. Oh how he’d missed this. 

 

There was such a timelessness to Hannibal, that even with three years apart, they could pick up almost exactly where they left off. Will imagined sometimes that when he went over their past conversations in his own Mind Palace, Hannibal was doing the same in his. It had been a comfort in a time when he hadn’t been ready to accept that he needed comfort at all. He had refused to believe that he was grieving. Launching himself into his relationship with Molly in a desperate denial of the truth. 

 

Hannibal raised a weak hand to cup Will’s uninjured cheek, and Will instinctively pressed into the touch, his own hand raising to keep Hannibal’s there. 

 

“I missed you.” Will murmured oh so softly, hardly more than an exhalation of breath. 

 

Hannibal’s lips twitched into a smile, one that shone brightest in his eyes. “Darling boy...” He breathed, thumb ghosting over the delicate skin beneath Will’s eye. “I too, have felt your absence keenly.” He admitted. 

 

It made Will’s heart stutter to hear it, and there was a tight coil of anxiety that began to wind in his lower stomach. What now? How did they move on? What happened next?

 

Almost as if reading the emotions right off of the planes of his face, Hannibal sighed in understanding. “The road before us is a blank page of possibilities, Will. Endless potential to exploit, once we have fully recovered.” 

 

The words settled him, and he nodded carefully. They’d take this one step at a time, then, until they found their footing. Until then, there was no need for elaborate plans or schemes. It was just them, and perhaps it always had been. Perhaps that’s exactly what Hannibal had wanted Will to acknowledge from the very beginning. 

 

“Alright.” Will agreed. “Guess it’s my turn to play doctor, then.” He said wryly. 

 

Hannibal caught on to his underlying mirth and exhaled a chuckle. “Should I be worried, Will? With myself at your mercy, you could finally have your reckoning.” He only half-teased. 

 

Will shook his head. “We’re even, Hannibal. Our slates have been wiped clean.” 

 

Hannibal raised his eyebrows, “A rebirth for us both, then?” Will nodded. “What have I been reborn as, Will?” Hannibal asked, a strange sense of deja vu settling over Will as he recalled the words his Mind-Hannibal had spoken and his own response. 

 

_ What then, have I become?  _

 

_ Mine.  _

 

Will faltered for a moment, the word on the tip of his tongue. The moment stretched on far longer than was comfortable, but when had comfort even been a staple of their relationship? Who knew him better than Hannibal? Who had never once been offended or judged Will for speaking his mind? 

 

“Mine.” Will answered, ducking his head to press a kiss against the palm of Hannibal’s hand. “You’re mine.” 

 

The abject adoration in Hannibal’s eyes would have been enough to make Cupid blush. 

 

\--------

 

Hannibal’s recovery went the slowest, since he was fighting several infections, and Will was more than happy to pick up the slack. Hannibal read Chiyoh’s letter during one of the times he was more lucid than not, and told Will she’d arranged to be picked up by another boat, never intending to see them past the most critical stages of their maladies. Hannibal seemed a little wistful about it, but Will didn’t comment. 

 

Hannibal seemed to prefer to sleep in the daytime, and Will used the time to perform menial chores, tidying up and doing routine maintenance tasks. He cooked for them both, not exactly up to Hannibal’s high standards, but he never rejected a meal, and instead thanked Will sincerely. 

 

Occasionally Will would fish, once he got over the surprise of there even being fishing tackle on board, and on those days they’d have fresh meat for dinner. 

 

Hannibal would usually wake in the late afternoon, and as his health improved, Will would help him to the deck to soak up the last rays of sunshine the day had to offer, during which they would eat together in companionable silence. 

 

Afterwards, they’d retire to the cabin, Hannibal propped up on pillows and reading by lamplight while Will curled up next to him and slept more soundly than he had in years. Sometimes they talked before bed, and sometimes they were content to just bask in the other’s presence. Will would set his alarm for five hours, at which time he’d wake and make Hannibal food so he could take his medication on a full stomach, as was suggested. Then he’d curl back up against Hannibal’s side and sleep for another five hours or so. 

 

“You no longer have nightmares.” Hannibal commented one night as he watched Will get ready for bed. The idea of privacy between them seemed ludicrous now, and Will dressed himself and Hannibal without a moment’s pause. It was just the way it was now. 

 

“No, I don’t.” Will agreed, tugging his shirt off and pulling a clean one over his head. 

 

“When did that occur?” Hannibal asked, curiosity and something Will now knew was jealousy coloring his tone. Will smiled. 

 

“Since I woke up here, I think.” He said, watching with amusement as the answer seemed to mollify Hannibal. 

 

“You have finally accepted the darkness in your own mind.” Hannibal stated confidently, and Will couldn’t help but roll his eyes, chuckling at the look of consternation he received for that. 

 

“I guess.” Will shrugged. “I’m trying not to question it, and just enjoy it.” He admitted.

 

Hannibal hummed in thought, “Or perhaps it is my soothing presence beside you as you sleep.” He suggested innocently. 

 

Will narrowed his eyes, but crossed the small room to lay down beside him anyway. “That’s probably it.” He agreed. “Why would the monsters in my mind haunt me when I’m sleeping next to the apex predator?” He teased. 

 

Hannibal shot him a look over the top of his book, which Will was about 75% sure he wasn’t actually reading. “You needn’t patronize me, Will.” He said with a haughty sniff.

 

Will chuckled a laugh, settling into the nest of pillows he favored, given he no longer had a pack of dogs to cuddle. The bed was small, and Will often slept on his side, facing Hannibal, their legs brushing  more often than not. They had never had many boundaries between them anyway, why start now? 

 

“No really, I’m sure you’re terrifying enough to chase away all my demons.” Will teased. 

 

“And yet, you have never been afraid of me.” Hannibal pointed out. 

 

Will shook his head, “No, I never have.” He agreed. “Pissed off, sure. Frustrated, definitely. But you never scared me.” 

 

Hannibal watched him carefully. “I never did, no. I wonder why that is.”

 

Will couldn’t help but snort a laugh as he realized the answer Hannibal wanted him to give. “Because you and I are one in the same. Lions don’t fear other lions.” 

 

Smirking in satisfaction, Hannibal nodded. “To a lion, there are only two kinds of lions.” 

 

Will, eyes already shut as he began to drift off into sleep, gave an inquisitive, sleepy hum. 

 

“Rivals and mates.” 

 

And...suddenly Will was wide awake again.

 

“Are you my rival, Will?” Hannibal asked, carding a hand through Will’s hair, smoothing the curls back from his face. “A conversation for the morning, perhaps.” He suggested, looking far too smug. As much as Will wanted to argue, he could only truly manage a half-hearted sleepy glare as he followed Hannibal’s suggestion and slept. 

 

\-----------

 

They never did revisit the conversation in the morning since Will was adamant he wouldn’t be the one to bring it up, and Hannibal never did either. That didn’t mean that Hannibal’s words didn’t constantly rattle in Will’s head all day. Now every time their skin brushed or he felt Hannibal’s eyes on him (which was  _ always _ , let’s be real) he remembered Hannibal’s question and struggled not to blush.   

 

It was obvious what Hannibal was implying, and Will blamed the medication for his lack of subtlety. It wasn’t that Will objected to it, per se, but was that what Hannibal wanted?  _ Why _ ? Was he still trying to find things to manipulate Will with? The thought made him feel vaguely ill. 

 

It would be a lie to try and claim that their relationship hadn’t constantly been fraught with innuendo (although usually implying murder and cannibalism, to be fair) or their own unique brand of sexual tension. The kind where it wasn’t always clear:  _ do I want to fuck you or kill you? _

 

Will hadn’t ever entertained the thought with any amount of sincerity before, though. There was too much between them, too many hurts and shared histories, for that to have ever been possible. But he’d said it himself, the slate was wiped clean for them. Was this even possible without somehow hurting each other again? Did he want to try? 

 

God help him, he did.

 

But the question remained:  _ was Hannibal just playing him again? _ It would be naive not to at least consider it. But Will found that he didn’t want to voice the question and risk offending Hannibal. 

 

The thought that he was actually worried about  _ hurting Hannibal’s feelings _ was almost comical when he thought about it, but no less true. Still, communication was important, right? Surely it would be preferable for Will to set his own fears out in the open so they could talk about it, rather than let it fester and grow into resentment and insecurity. 

 

Will really hated the head games Hannibal played, even when he wasn’t sure Hannibal was even playing. He didn’t need to do anything, Will’s own imagination did all the work for him. 

 

He was changing for bed again when he made his decision. 

 

“Hannibal, I think we need to talk.” 

 

Hannibal made a show of looking up from his book, as if he hadn’t been staring at Will out of the corner of his eye. He wasn’t nearly as slick as he thought he was. 

 

“About what, Will?” He asked placidly. 

 

“Us.” Will said simply, crawling into bed and facing Hannibal as he did every night. “I know what you were implying the other night, even if I was half-asleep, and I need to know something.” 

 

Hannibal was clearly interested, as he put his book down beside him and propped his head up with his hand, turning to face Will. 

 

“And what would you like to know?” He asked, voice low and bewitching.

 

“Is that something you want, or were you just trying to make me uncomfortable?” 

 

“Has it made you uncomfortable, Will?” Hannibal asked, latching on to the part of the sentence like a dog with a bone. 

 

Will shook his head. “No.” He answered honestly. “But the idea that you might be trying to toy with me again does.” He explained. “We’re equals, Hannibal. If we weren’t, I’d have ended up on your table already. So whatever the relationship between us, it won’t work if you still see me as something to toy with.” 

 

Hannibal clearly didn’t expect that, if his flummoxed expression was anything to go by, and Will mentally congratulated himself of having rendered Hannibal speechless. 

 

“I have little room for regret in my own philosophy.” Hannibal began after a long moment of thought. “But you spoke of new beginnings, and I find myself craving just that.” He said, eyes and face completely unreadable. “You are correct, Will. You are my equal, like none other ever has been or ever will be. You have my word that I would not manipulate you in that way.” 

 

Will narrowed his eyes. “In  _ any  _ way, Hannibal. Manipulate the pigs as much as you’d like, toy with them to your heart’s content. But don’t you  _ dare  _ pull that shit with me again, alright? I’m not going to stand for it a second time.” He said, voice quiet, but no less firm for its volume. 

 

Hannibal met his eyes for a long moment, Will refusing to look away as if it were a test of dominance which, knowing Hannibal, it probably was. “Very well, Will. You have my word.” He swore, tilting his head slightly in concession. 

 

Will nodded, pressing closer to Hannibal’s side and exhaling comfortably. Hannibal, uncharacteristically hesitating, put an arm around Will’s shoulders as if worried he’d be rebuffed. Will planned to do nothing of the sort, however, the contact was pleasant. The boat was mostly well-insulated, but the berth, surrounded by the sea on all sides but one, often became chilly at night, and the joined warmth of their bodies was welcome. 

 

They were silent for a moment, Hannibal seemingly lost in thought, and Will trying (and failing) to fall asleep. However, a shifting from Hannibal had Will’s eyes meeting his. He raised his eyebrows questioningly. 

 

“I have never known you as settled as you have been since I awoke.” Hannibal said quietly, and Will was sure there was a question in there somewhere. 

 

“I’ve had a lot of time to think.” 

 

“So you have.” Hannibal agreed. “And what have you concluded?” He asked. 

 

Will shrugged. “I’ve learned a lot about myself the past few months. Before the fall, even.” When Hannibal raised his eyebrows in interest, Will continued. “You helped me see that doing bad things to bad people made me feel good. But what I did to Chilton...” He trailed off. 

 

“You knew what you were doing.” 

 

“I did. I knew it wouldn’t end well for him, and when it was done...Francis sent us a recording.” 

 

Hannibal stayed quiet, watching him and silently encouraging him to continue.

 

“I think that was harder than seeing the aftermath. The terror, the screams...” 

 

Hannibal nodded, “With your ability, it must have felt as if his fate was your own.” 

 

Will nodded, “In a sense, yes.” He agreed. “But only because I knew that it very well could have been me. It had nothing to do with Frederick, it was fear for myself.” He admitted. 

 

“How did that realization make you feel?” Hannibal asked. 

 

“Lazy psychology, Doctor.” Will teased and Hannibal smiled. 

 

“Indulge me, please.” 

 

“I felt selfish, and I couldn’t bring myself to feel guilty about it.” Will said. “And then when I went to visit him, he knew. He could see it in my eyes.” 

 

“Did you feel judged? Ashamed?” 

 

“No.” Will stated simply. “I didn’t feel anything. If anything, disgust.” He said, the beginnings of a smirk beginning to tug at the corners of his mouth. “He really is quite ugly.” He shared conspiratorily. 

 

Hannibal barked out a surprised laugh, one that warmed Will to hear. “A pity that I wasn’t able to see it for myself.” Hannibal lamented. 

 

Will shook his head. “It was bad enough to look at, but the  _ smell _ .” He shuddered. 

 

Hannibal chuckled, “I imagine he will find a way to capitalize on his misfortune, sooner than later.” 

 

“That’s true.” Will agreed. “He’ll probably write another book. Worse than the others, since he’ll feel confident that you won’t want to eat him anymore.” 

 

Hannibal shot him a look, part amusement and part considering. “I prefer my meat rare, but I do have a recipe for Vietnamese charbroiled pork...” He mused. “Originally I had thought to extract something and cook it in front of him.”

 

“Finish the job that Abel Gideon started?” Will asked. 

 

“Another delicious acquaintance.”

 

Will couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of his chest. “Do you imagine eating everyone you come into contact with?”

 

“Most, yes.” Hannibal admitted. “I see it as a mental exercise, imagining their individual tastes and designing a meal around them.” 

 

“How would you eat me?” Will asked, flushing a little at the double entendre. 

 

Hannibal smirked, “I would cook you simply, seasoned perhaps only with salt and pepper, allowing your taste to exist independently of any seasoning.” He said without a moment of hesitation. “As for how I would eat you, I believe the answer would be  _ thoroughly and until you forgot your own name _ .” 

 

A coil of white-hot heat pooled low in Will’s gut and his pulse quickened at the images his mind readily presented for him. “Hannibal...” 

 

“But I am, regrettably, not quite recovered enough for that yet.” He said with a teasing smile and a nose that pushed into Will’s curls, lips brushing Will’s forehead over the scar he’d left there. 

  
  


Will raised his eyebrows. “You might not be, but I am.” He pointed out and it was Hannibal’s turn to sport small spots of color high on his cheeks. “I can probably find something to do with you, bedridden as you mostly are.” 

 

Hannibal seemed to swallow with some difficulty, and when he spoke again, his voice was rougher, his accent a bit more pronounced. “I have no doubt that you can.” he agreed.

 

The conversation growing a little too heavy, considering how recently the boundaries of their relationship had shifted, so Will changed the subject. “You said you imagine eating your acquaintances, but do you actually have plans to go back for any?” He asked, figuring it was probably better to find out now. 

 

Hannibal accepted the change of topic, but his voice took a little longer to revert back to it’s usual cadence. “I do.” He confirmed.

 

“Alana.” Will guessed, and Hannibal tilted his head. 

 

“I gave her the opportunity to walk away, to escape such a fate. She chose to stay.” 

 

Will imagined he would have been bothered by this months ago. His relationship with Alana had begun to dwindle from the moment he was introduced to Hannibal and it had continued to wane. “Margot and the kid?” He asked. 

 

“Would you ask me not to kill them? Prevent me from doing so?” Hannibal asked, eyes sparkling with curiosity. 

 

Will pursed his lips as he thought about it. “I don’t think I can kill a child. I don’t want to find out.” 

 

Hannibal nodded his agreement. “I would not ask that of you, and I would not do it myself.” 

 

Will idly wondered what Hannibal’s definition of a child was, and decided he’d cross that bridge when he came to it, fairly certain that it wouldn’t be as black and white as ‘eighteen’ or something equally as arbitrary. 

 

“Do you plan on orphaning the kid?” He asked. 

 

“Plan to? No. Should dear Margot interfere, then I would have to take necessary measures. I do not have any quarrel with her, however.” 

 

Will nodded, satisfied with the answer. A sudden, rather dark thought emerged, one that he would have tamped down before, but now wondered what would happen if he gave it voice, let it come to fruition. “Would you be open to...requests?” He started tentatively. 

 

He had all of Hannibal’s attention in an instant, not that he hadn’t had it before, but now it burned with an intensity that made Will want to hide his face in Hannibal’s sweater.

 

“My dear boy...” Hannibal breathed, the words striking something visceral within Will that he chose not to examine too carefully. “What would please you?” 

 

“I just wondered if...if Bedelia had made it on your future dinner menu...”

 

Hannibal couldn’t help the adoring smile that split his lips wide. “I would not say that she is  _ exempt  _ from it, no.” He said. “Would you like to have her for dinner, Will?” 

 

Will shrugged, as if he didn’t care one way or another. “The lecture she gave about you was rude.” He offered. “All of it lies.” 

 

“Darling Will...” Hannibal smiled, pressing another kiss to his forehead, “You never need to justify your kills, not to me.” 

 

Will shook his head. “I’d rather not kill her. Not...out of any lingering doubts on my side, but because it would be too kind.” 

 

Hannibal raised his eyebrows. “And what has she done to earn your ire, I wonder?” He teased. 

 

Will huffed, and said nothing. 

 

Hannibal pressed a kiss to Will’s temple, and one on the tip of his nose, which had him scrunching up his face at the unfamiliar and unexpected touch. It wasn’t unwelcome, however, but it made Will impatient. 

 

He tilted his chin up in offering, hoping Hannibal would take the hint. He took it, of course, and then did nothing with it, fathomless eyes locked on Will’s. Will could feel Hannibal’s gentle exhalations of breath as ghosts flitting across the planes of his face, and it made his own breath come in shallower drags of air as he tried to focus on some aspect of Hannibal’s face, too close to his own to see clearly without crossing his eyes. When had he gotten so close? Who had moved? 

 

Will’s mouth parted and his tongue swiped out of his mouth to lick his own lips, but Hannibal’s were so close to his own, that his tongue brushed Hannibal’s bottom lip in passing. Hannibal’s lips fell open in an inaudible gasp as he pressed them to Will’s, chasing the tongue that had fled into its proper mouth. 

 

Body tight like a coiled spring, Will shook against Hannibal, pressing ever closer and kissing back as fervently as Hannibal did. It felt like being devoured, but more than that, the lines between them had blurred. Their bodies seemed to share the same temperature, no difference as their flavors mixed, and Will’s eyes fluttered shut. Was it his tongue or Hannibal’s that teased the roof of his mouth? Was there really any difference? 

 

Will imagined he could kiss like this for a lifetime, losing himself in Hannibal as he in turn lost himself in Will, melded together, body and mind. It was the second time Hannibal had been inside his body, Will realized with a jolt that went straight to the erection he hadn’t realized he sported. 

 

How was it possible to be so close together, pressed together so completely, yet still so far apart. Will grew light-headed as he realized he’d forgotten to breathe. He broke away from Hannibal’s mouth with a gasp, dragging huge lungfuls of air into his body. Hannibal didn’t miss a beat, shifting his mouth to press open-mouthed kisses along Will’s uninjured jaw and down his neck. As Will arched into the kisses, Hannibal grew bolder, sucking and nipping bruises into his skin, and Will couldn’t bring himself to care. 

 

Who, now, would see the marks and judge him? Only Hannibal. 

 

Only Hannibal. 

 

“Oh god...” Will moaned, arms wrapped around Hannibal as tightly as he could without hurting him, and Hannibal’s own hands roamed his body freely. Or were they his hands, surgeon’s fingers rucking up a loose t-shirt to slide against the skin underneath? Yes. The answer was yes, to all of it.  _ Yes yes yes _ . 

 

“I want to peel you open...” Will whimpered, or it may have been Hannibal. “...expose the most visceral parts of you and crawl inside...” 

 

“...make a home for yourself inside of me...” 

 

“...god, yes...”

 

“...there’s room for two...”

 

“...only one. Only us...”

 

“...we are one...” 

 

Murmured desires and agreements whispered against flushed skin, kissed pink and raw. They moved against each other, moved as one, minute, fluid movements to accommodate for injuries. A rocking and a sliding as erect, throbbing cocks, rubbed raw with friction, met thighs eager to please the other. Layers of clothing still between them, dulling the sensation that so soon had them on the edge, too overwhelmed already with what little they could feel of the other.

 

It was true what people said, Will supposed, that it mattered less what you did than with whom you did it. Hannibal... _ oh god, Hannibal.... _

 

Will’s hips rocked against the vee of his hips, his thigh pressing obligingly against Hannibal’s cock with each rock. He did most of the work, letting Hannibal’s healing abdominal muscles rest as he brought them both ever closer to the edge. 

 

Hannibal in no way laid back and let Will create all their sensations, however, his hands never resting, never stilling as they delved beneath and around layers of fabric, bringing them into contact wherever possible. Will had never felt so overwhelmed, so overcome. 

 

“Hann-Hannibal...” He breathed, “Are you-? I’m...I’m almost-”

 

“Yes, Will...” Hannibal’s voice tight and strained. “My darling...precious boy...” He moaned, mouth panting against Will’s neck and hips twitching upwards, even as each movement caused a twinge of pain to ripple from the bullet hole, closed over with delicate skin easily rent. 

 

Those words...from  _ that mouth _ ...Will never had a chance. With a string of incoherent moans and stuttered breaths he came in his boxers, smeared filthily as he couldn’t still his hips, eager to chase every lingering sensation available to him. A gasp and a whine like an aborted moan preceded the burst of warmth against Will’s thigh that signaled Hannibal’s own release a mere moment after Will’s. 

 

They both slumped to the bed against each other, boneless and exhausted. Will came back to himself slowly, his self untangling itself from Hannibal’s until they were two entities once more. He looked up at Hannibal, who wore the most smug and content smile on his face, breathing through his mouth as he caught his breath, hair fanned across his forehead boyishly. Will smiled fondly and brushed the strands back, slick with perspiration. 

 

“Well.” Will said after a moment, when it was clear Hannibal wasn’t going to break the silence. 

 

“Quite.” Hannibal agreed, chest rising steadily, but more pronouncedly than Will was used to seeing. 

 

“What was that...?” Will marvelled. “I’ve never...” 

 

Hannibal shook his head. “Nor I.” 

 

Will chuckled, “We didn’t even undress...” 

 

Hannibal’s face settled into a moue of disgust as he registered the cooling bodily fluids unpleasantly slick in his own boxer briefs. “I...this is unacceptable.” He said at large and Will had mercy on them both, standing and stripping out of his shirt and boxers before heading over to the bathroom for a washcloth, bring Hannibal a fresh set of clothes on his way back. 

 

He’d already cleaned himself and he helped Hannibal undress. Technically Hannibal could undress himself, but even without the lassitude of a recent orgasm, it could put unnecessary strain on Hannibal’s abdomen, something that Will had been very strict about, mostly because he didn’t trust that he had the skills to patch Hannibal up if he tore his stitches. So he stripped Hannibal down, perhaps a little more tenderly than his usual care, and Hannibal noticed, if his besotted smile was any indication. 

 

“Thank you, Will.” Hannibal said as Will finished cleaning him, bundling the washcloth along with their soiled clothes and tossing them in the corner of the room, something he knew annoyed Hannibal. Will figured it served as motivation for Hannibal to get better quickly, so he’d be able to bring the ship up to his unique standards of tidiness. 

 

He was about to start redressing Hannibal when he slipped back beneath the blankets and Will raised his eyebrows. “That how you’re staying?” He asked. 

 

Hannibal shrugged, “Clothing would be too restrictive at the moment.” 

 

“But I’m going to bed and you just woke up...” Will pressed. “Are you planning on lounging around naked all day?” 

 

“Problem?” 

 

Alright, if that’s what he wanted. 

 

Will shook his head and put his hands up, palms out. “You do you.”

 

“I’d much rather do  _ you _ , Will.” Hannibal quipped, and...well, Will  _ had  _ walked right into that one. 

 

He shook his head fondly and slipped into bed, equally naked. “Tomorrow maybe. I’m tired now, and going to sleep.” He stated. 

 

Hannibal smiled indulgently and turned on his side, something he’d only recently been able to do without too much discomfort, and wrapped an arm around Will’s middle, bringing him flush with Will’s back...and Will’s backside. 

 

Will thought it probably should feel uncomfortable, spooning with a very naked Hannibal, but it didn’t. It wasn’t any stranger than the fact they’d both basically dry humped to orgasm like a couple of teenagers. And wasn’t that the strangest thing? He’d technically had sex. With Hannibal. 

 

Wil waited, to see if the realization would cause a surge of panic, but it never came. Accepting it as something he didn’t need to worry about, Will relaxed into Hannibal’s arms comfortably. 

 

“Good night, Will. Sleep well.” Hannibal said, pressing a kiss to the nape of his neck, and Will mumbled back sleepily. 

 

The last thought he had before he drifted off was that he wouldn’t mind falling asleep like this every night. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will learns to cook, kinks are discovered and explored, Hannibal is insecure, and a (possible) asshole gets his truck stolen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so, I lied. There is no Bedelia in this chapter, I'm sorry. Blame the Murder Husbands who decided they wanted more fluff and domestic bliss. I had nothing to do with this, okay?  
> That said, the new estimate is at least two more chapters, one of which is already written and will be posted on Hannigram Day! (August 22nd)   
> This fic has spiraled wildly out of my control, somebody send help please lol
> 
> As per usual, all mistakes are mine, and please feel free to point them out! ♥

Things weren’t that different after that, but now their silences were punctuated with small, private smiles, and meaningful touches. Will had never noticed how tactile Hannibal was, but he supposed that three years in captivity would be enough to make anyone touch-starved. 

 

Will often wondered how many people had ever touched Hannibal like this. Not in struggles and violence, but in tender brushes of skin that carried no expectations. Contact for contact’s sake. Hannibal had had relationships before, Will wasn’t naive. Even Alana wouldn’t have been the first. But did any of his previous lovers know him like Will did? Did they accept him so completely and unconditionally? Will, rather smugly, didn’t think so. 

 

So he made sure to touch Hannibal frequently and without reservation. Will wouldn’t make him ask for it, was sure that he wouldn’t even if Will required it of him. As Hannibal’s sleep patterns began to shift back to normal, they spent more time together. Hannibal still couldn’t stand for long periods of time, and even sitting could get painful, so there were a few places around the boat that Will had piled blankets and pillows in a wedge shape so Hannibal could recline against them, horizontal enough to be comfortable, but upright enough that he could watch Will as was his wont. 

 

The days passed slowly, languidly, and Will was determined not to allow Hannibal to fall into boredom as he recovered. 

 

“Teach me to cook.” He proposed one morning as they ate the salmon omelettes Will had just finished preparing. 

 

Hannibal paused, fork halfway to his mouth, “Certainly, Will. Although I have not found your meals lacking.” 

 

Will shook his head. “I know that, and it’s not like I can’t cook. But I usually end up reverting back to the same couple dozen recipes I’m most familiar with.” He explained. “I’m not going to be able to cook feasts up to your standards, in part because I don’t think I can replicate your centerpieces,” He grinned, “but I’d like to make an effort to improve anyway.” 

 

Hannibal nodded, “Alright, Will. I suppose I can direct you from here.” He agreed. 

 

Will reached across the table and slipped his fingers between those of Hannibal’s free hand, not missing the pleased smile Hannibal wore for the rest of the meal. 

 

\------

 

There was a room on board that Will suspected may have been a second bedroom once, but now held a massive freezer, large enough to fit an entire body. The irony wasn’t lost on him, but there were no people inside. Knowing that Hannibal would likely refuse outright to eat anything canned, it had been stocked with all manner of frozen vegetables and meat still in its original packaging. 

 

Still, after weeks on the water, the dwindling of their supplies was becoming increasingly apparent. Will fished whenever he could, but they didn’t have fishing licenses and they couldn’t afford to attract undue attention. So Will kept his fishing to times when the horizon was clear and approaching ships easy to spot. 

 

Even then, Will knew he could only extend their supplies a couple weeks at most and they would need to dock someplace to resupply, and Will found himself dreading the inevitable. So he brought it up one night when they were curled around each other in bed, their sleeping cycles almost completely synchronized. 

 

“We’re going to need more food, soon.” He said, and Hannibal sighed like he’d been expecting it for some time. 

 

“I had wondered.” Hannibal said. “Very well, I believe that the false identities I had procured for us are in the safe.” The false identities that he’d prepared over three years ago, the last time that Hannibal had hoped Will would run away with him. 

 

“Did Chiyoh leave you the combination?” He asked, and Hannibal nodded, Will able to feel the motion against his hair. 

 

“Okay, so we dock somewhere, hotwire a car I guess, make a run to Wal-Mart and then come back to the boat before we’re recognized?” 

 

Will could feel the disdain pouring off of Hannibal at the mere mention of Wal-Mart, even without being able to see his face. 

 

“Alternatively, we can go to a house I know to be unoccupied.” Hannibal suggested. 

 

“Did you kill the owners?” Will asked curiously, slipping his fingers into Hannibal’s where they were draped lazily over his waist.  

 

“No. They are an elderly couple, no children or extended family. They used to go every summer, but stopped when the wife’s dementia advanced to a point she could no longer care for herself. They haven’t been back in years, to my knowledge.” Hannibal explained. 

 

“Wow, okay. We still need to shop for groceries, though.” He pointed out. 

 

“There is a delivery service I am familiar with. Their merchandise is of an acceptable quality.” Hannibal allowed. 

 

Will nodded as he thought about it, “Alright, so we hole up in this house for the rest of our convalescence?” He asked. 

 

“I don’t see why not.” Hannibal said. “It’s remote, comfortable, and I believe there is a small lake within a mile of the house.” 

 

Will’s eyebrows furrowed. “Then the lake would probably have campsites around it, right? And that means people.” 

 

Hannibal shook his head. “No, the land is all privately-owned. The entirety of the lake falls within the boundaries of the estate.” 

 

“Estate-? Wait. Hannibal-”

 

“Yes, Will?” Hannibal asked, nosing into Will’s curls and inhaling deeply. 

 

“Whose  _ estate _ , exactly, are you suggesting we borrow?” 

 

Hannibal shrugged, “I believe the husband has several patents to his name, and his wife was an author many years ago. They amassed a considerable fortune.” 

 

“And how do you know them? Were they your patients?” Will asked, thumb caressing Hannibal’s idly. There was a small, white scar near the base and Will wondered what had caused it. 

 

“Why no, Will.” Hannibal said with some amusement. “We met at a fundraising event many, many years ago. They often attended my dinner parties.” 

 

“Oh.” Will answered. It was easy to forget sometimes that Hannibal had actually had a rather thriving social life, a variety of acquaintances with equally varied lives. For all that he was usually playing a role, Hannibal must have enjoyed their company to some extent. Well, perhaps not  _ company _ , exactly, but the adoring looks and awestruck fumblings must have amused him at least. That was probably it. Hannibal drew attention merely by existing in a room, he commanded respect and instilled a desire to earn his approval. Will was able to recognize it, even as he had resented it in the beginning. He wondered if he was the only one to have never fawned over Hannibal. Even Jack had kissed his ass. 

 

“Did you even have any friends?” Will asked, and then regretted the words when he realized how they could be taken. “Sorry. That’s not-” 

 

Hannibal looked more amused than offended, so that was probably a good sign. “It’s alright, Will. I have become accustomed to the way your mind leaps, often leaving the rest of us behind.” 

 

“Still. That didn’t come out right.” Will said, turning in Hannibal’s arms until he was facing him, their legs intertwining in a motion so well-practiced that their knees never collided. 

 

“Didn’t it?” Hannibal countered, lips twitching. “I prefer you at your most honest, Will. You don’t need to wrap your words in a veneer of civility. Not with me.” He said earnestly, and all Will could do was nod as Hannibal brought one of Will’s hands to his mouth to press a kiss against his knuckles. 

 

“To answer your question, yes. I suppose you could call them friends. Granted, there weren’t many, and they were often spread across time and distance.” 

 

“Do you miss them?” 

 

Hannibal looked pensive for a moment. “What a curious question. No, I don’t believe I do, or ever have.” He said after a moment. “Why do you ask, Will?” 

 

Will shrugged, “I forgot your life was very different before you met me, and then I realized that despite knowing your true self, I lack the knowledge that your other acquaintances would have had.” He explained. “The...superficial details of your life. They interest me.” 

 

Hannibal smiled indulgently. “Anything you would like to know, Will. You only have to ask.” He said. “However, if it were to console you, I would argue that the past details of my life are immaterial when faced with those of the life I now share with you.” He said quietly, and how was Will able to resist that? 

 

Will pressed forward, kissing Hannibal deeply and with a desperation that only Hannibal seemed able to inspire in him. He could feel Hannibal’s lips curl into a smile against his own as one of his hands drifted down to Will’s hips and around to his ass. Then it was Will’s turn to smile. He’d noticed that Hannibal was...well,  _ obsessed _ , with his ass. It wasn’t even subtle, the way Hannibal would stare at him when he thought Will wasn’t looking, and whenever they inevitably started making out (in bed, on the deck, across the bench in the kitchen), that’s where Hannibal’s hands drifted first. Will thought it was endearing, this detail that so humanized Hannibal. 

 

Will thought it was pretty hot, too, the feeling of Hannibal’s palm, so much larger than his own, and warmer, too, slipping beneath his boxers and gripping handfuls of his flesh to squeeze unrelentingly. It never failed to have Will gasping and writhing in Hannibal’s arms within mere moments, and tonight was no different. 

 

One of Will’s hands found their way to Hannibal’s head, fingers carding through silky strands that were beginning to return to the usual length Hannibal preferred before the BSHCI. Will liked that he had something to anchor his fingers in, and he loved the way it made Hannibal moan when he tugged on the greying strands. It was unfair how well Hannibal seemed to be aging and Will wondered what he would look like with a head gone completely grey. He might dye it, vain as he was. The thought made Will’s heart ache with fondness. 

 

Their lips parted with a gasp, but their hands continued to roam and pet. “You feel so good.” Will whined, nuzzling into the crook of Hannibal’s neck. “I could do this for an eternity...” he declared, voice muffled by Hannibal’s skin. 

 

He felt more than heard Hannibal’s rumbling chuckle. “Dear boy...” he whispered against the shell of Will’s ear, spreading goosebumps in his wake. Will sobbed a gasp and pressed closer, arms winding around Hannibal’s back and pulling him ever nearer. 

 

“God, Hannibal...” Will breathed, “When you say that...” 

 

“Say what, Will?” Hannibal asked, feigning innocence.

 

“... _ that _ ...” Will whispered, voice hushed in embarrassment. 

 

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you are referring to, Will.” Hannibal insisted, infuriatingly smug. 

 

Will shuddered and shook his head. “When you - you call me.... _ boy _ ...” He whimpered softly, face still hidden against Hannibal. 

 

“Ah, but you are, Will.” Hannibal said, “You’re my sweet, cunning,  _ darling  _ boy.” 

 

Will shivered at the way the words seemed to trickle down his spine like fire, like the brandy in Hannibal’s office... _ like drops of blood _ . 

 

Will pulled back, pushing against Hannibal’s shoulders until he lay flat on his back in bed. Will crawled over him, careful not to put pressure on his wounds as he rested his forearms on either side of Hannibal’s head and ducked his head to kiss him hungrily. 

 

Hannibal’s hands wasted no time in seeking out Will’s skin again, rucking up his t-shirt to his armpits until Will broke away from his mouth impatiently and pulled the shirt over his head, tossing it somewhere off the bed. Hannibal opened his mouth like he was about to say something, but whatever it was became muffled by Will’s questing tongue, which he happily accepted into his own mouth. 

 

Will arched into Hannibal’s hands, sliding down the planes of his back and then up the muscles of his chest. Will cried out when Hannibal’s clever, nimble fingers found his nipples and began to roll them between thumb and forefinger. 

 

“Oh  _ christ! _ ” Will gasped, arching away from Hannibal’s mouth and into the twin bursts of pleasure that seemed to be wired directly to his cock, which tented his boxers obscenely, and had been for a while, but had gone unnoticed until now. 

 

Hannibal, however, had definitely noticed, and he used Will’s distraction to flip them over again until Will was on his back and Hannibal could duck his mouth down to tease the closest nipple with lips and teeth. 

 

“Hann-” Will gasped brokenly, his hips restless as they writhed back and forth as if he was trying to get away. 

 

“Something you’d like?” Hannibal asked, the nipple he released standing puffy and red. 

 

Will tugged on his own curls, both hands fisted in his hair as he tried to find enough brain cells to be capable of intelligible speech again. Hannibal, however, didn’t seem content to wait, and instead cupped him between his legs without warning and all rational thought fled from Will’s mind as he cried out hoarsely. 

 

Pleased with the response, Hannibal began to knead the flesh through the thin cotton, hot and throbbing against his palm. Will sobbed like the sensation was far too much to take, eyes squeezed tightly shut and hands still firmly gripping his hair as if to counteract the pleasure he received from Hannibal. 

 

A part of him, albeit a rather small part, felt ashamed that it was this easy to drive him to incoherency. Hannibal had only touched him over his boxers and already it felt like he was mere seconds from coming all over himself. 

 

“Gorgeous boy...” Hannibal breathed, pressing small, chaste kisses to his chest, a filthy counterpoint to the way his hand slid up and down Will’s cock, maddeningly slowly. 

 

“Oh...oh please...” Will begged, and Hannibal was only too happy to oblige, slipping his hand beneath the waistband and drawing Will out, hooking the waistband beneath his balls, and bearing him to the air of the cabin. 

 

Will propped himself up on his elbows, eager to watch as Hannibal’s hand wrapped around him and began stroking slowly, thumb swiping against Will’s slit to gather the precome that bubbled up from the tip and use it to slick his way. Will had always loved Hannibal’s hands, soft and lined with veins, competent and dexterous, whether they were tending to injuries or inflicting them. To have such a hand wrapped around his most delicate areas filled him with anxious adrenaline and unimaginable pleasure. 

 

He rocked his hips into Hannibal’s grip, and that’s when he noticed it. The scar on Hannibal’s wrist, still thick and raised. Will couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like to press his cock against it - his own mark on Hannibal’s skin - right before he came all over it, marking it for a second time. The thought had barely entered his mind before he was slumping back against the bed and coming in long ropes across his belly. 

 

Hannibal worked him through his orgasm, and when Will glanced down the sight nearly had him wishing he could get hard again. His come was dripping down Hannibal’s hand, and a few drops ran down his wrist, so close to how Will had seen it in his own mind. 

 

“Oh my god, Hannibal...” He moaned, reaching for the hand. Hannibal allowed it, curiosity getting the better of him. Will licked up his mess, laving his wrist in wide swipes of his tongue before moving on to his fingers, sucking each into his mouth and wiping all traces of his release from Hannibal’s skin. He took those fingers deep in his mouth, revelling in the way that they sat on the bed of his tongue. It would be so easy for Hannibal to choke him like this, to slide his hand into Will’s mouth like Bedelia had done to her patient. But no, Hannibal accepted the treatment with little more than hitched breaths and dilating pupils. When he finished, he returned to Hannibal’s wrist, pressing open-mouthed kisses against the raised flesh in reverence. 

 

When Will met Hannibal’s eyes, they were bemused, but accepting. “You enjoy seeing your mark on me.” He surmised. 

 

Will nodded, blushing lightly. “I...I don’t know why...it was terrible, really...” he said, referencing the circumstances surrounding those scars. He slipped his boxers the rest of the way off and cleaned up the mess on his chest. 

 

“It’s an outward expression of your possession of me.” Hannibal said simply. “While I certainly didn’t at the time, I now have similar feelings towards this.” His hand drifted to Will’s belly and the smile he’d left for him there. 

 

“We’re kind of fucked up, aren’t we?” Will asked with the beginnings of a grin teasing at his lips. 

 

“Perhaps.” Hannibal agreed. “But I cannot imagine us any other way.” 

 

“Me neither.” Will agreed. “Here, let me...you haven’t come yet.” He said, reaching for Hannibal’s erection. He knew Hannibal wouldn’t ask for it, but the fact that he didn’t protest spoke volumes. No, instead Hannibal sighed softly as Will slipped his hand down the front of Hannibal’s sleep pants, which he rarely wore underwear with. 

 

“This won’t take long...” Hannibal confessed, voice low and strained as Will pumped him. Hannibal ran his hand down Will’s ass predictably, fingers teasing into the cleft as he squeezed in time with Will’s strokes. He was leaking liberally over himself and Will could see he was right, he had probably been right on the edge for a while now. So Will didn’t tease, stroking Hannibal efficiently and giving him what he wanted. Sure enough, a few strokes later and Hannibal was coming, mouth open and lips curled in a snarl as he gripped Will’s ass hard enough to bruise. 

 

“Oh dear Will...my precious boy...” Hannibal murmured as he came down, shivering with the aftershocks. Will held him tight until his heart rate returned to normal, and when he tried to remove his hand from Hannibal’s pants, Hannibal caught his wrist. “Wait, Will....” he asked quietly, as if he feared Will would deny him. 

 

He’d gone soft in Will’s palm, and his come was becoming cold and tacky, but Will kept his hand where it was. He moved closer, even, pressing against Hannibal more fully and cupping him intimately. 

 

“You like this?” He asked softly, not a single note of judgement in his voice. 

 

Hannibal’s thighs pressed together, trapping Will’s hand against him. “It is...unusual, I’m aware.” Hannibal said defensively, not meeting Will’s eyes. 

 

“Hey, no...it’s alright.” Will said. “It’s not a big deal, and if it makes you feel good, I’m happy to do it.” 

 

Hannibal nodded, hugging Will to him and closing his eyes. After a few moments, he spoke. “It is a combination of several factors.” He said quietly. 

 

“The warmth? The security?” Will guessed. 

 

“To start, yes. But also the intimacy and trust.” 

 

“The vulnerability?” 

 

Hannibal shuddered delicately, “ _ Yes _ .” 

 

The question was on the tip of Will’s tongue, and once more he had to force himself to voice the question, inappropriate as it might be. “How did you find out you liked it?” He asked tentatively. 

 

Hannibal sighed, “When I was quite young and just discovering masturbation, I would often fall asleep in this manner once I finished.” 

 

“That’s not so strange.” Will pointed out. “But I can see where bringing it up with a partner might be awkward.” 

 

Hannibal was quiet for a long moment and Will thought he’d fallen asleep, but then he spoke. “I never have before.” He confessed. 

 

It took a moment for Will to put that into context, but when he did he smiled, heart bursting with affection. “I'm honored.” He said, pressing a kiss to Hannibal’s throat. “And if you’d like, I’ll clean us up and we can continue?” He suggested. 

 

“Marvellous boy...” Hannibal murmured, pressing a kiss to Will’s forehead. “I would like that, yes.” 

 

“Alright, give me a second.” Will said, gently extracting his hand and wiping it messily on his discarded boxers. As he retrieved a washcloth from the bathroom he thought that when they arrived in the house Hannibal had suggested for them, it would be more convenient to keep a package of wet wipes near the bed. 

 

When he returned, Hannibal had slipped out of his pants and the sweater he wore more often than not. Will cleaned the drying come off of him and did the same for himself before tossing the cloth on the floor somewhere, laughing at the annoyance on Hannibal’s face, and climbing into bed behind him. 

 

Hannibal drew the blankets over them, soft and warm and heavy as he settled with his back pressed to Will’s chest. Will curled his arm over Hannibal’s hip, hand returning to cup Hannibal’s soft cock. The pleased sigh Will heard in response made it worth it, not that he needed an excuse to touch Hannibal, really. But it was certainly gratifying to know that he was able to do something for Hannibal that no one ever had. 

 

“I just had a thought.” Will announced sleepily. 

 

“And you usually speak them without reservation.” Hannibal pointed out. 

 

“True.” Will agreed. “I just realized that you’ve probably had more orgasms in the past week than in the past three years.” 

 

Hannibal was very quiet for a moment. “I would not be so sure.” 

 

That got Will’s attention. “What do you mean? Hannibal-?” He asked, starting to sit up, but a placating touch stilled him. 

 

“I was alone, in a facility where video surveillance monitored me constantly.”

 

“Yes, I know. That answers exactly zero questions.” 

 

“And when Alana took my books and drawings, I had little in the way of entertainment.” 

 

Then it was Will’s turn to pause. “Are you saying...that you jerked off to mess with Alana?” He asked very carefully. 

 

“Yes.” 

 

“Oh my god. What I would have given to see her face.” 

 

Hannibal chuckled. “She marched down to my cell the first time. I had not finished.” 

 

“Oh god, you kept going, didn’t you?”

 

“Of course I did. She was the intruder, after all.” Will could hear the smirk in his voice. 

 

“You basically fucked with her for three years, didn’t you?” Will shook his head. “No wonder she didn’t say anything when I proposed my plan to catch the Dragon. I thought she’d see right through me, but I guess all she saw was an opportunity to see you dead.” 

 

Hannibal hummed, “Never doubt the power of psychological torture, Will.”

 

“You’re incredible and terrifying.” Will praised, placing a kiss to the top of Hannibal’s spine. 

 

\---------

 

“Now add the beans, lower the heat down to a simmer, and cover the pot.” Hannibal instructed.

 

Will did as he was directed. Hannibal was walking him through easier recipes, Will knew. But they had limited materials to work with, so that probably had something to do with it, too.

 

“You can start to slice the sausage now, once down the center, lengthwise, and then quarter-inch thick cuts down the length.”

 

Hannibal was propped up on the kitchen bench, facing Will and watching him avidly as he followed Hannibal’s instructions. Will could tell that Hannibal was, in a way, cooking vicariously through Will, which was an unintended benefit of the activity. On the boat, Will could fish, tie flies, and maintain the sails, the motor. Hannibal, however, only had his sketchbook and a handful of books to read and then reread to pass the time. This was another reason they spent so much time in bed, and so little of it actually sleeping. So for him to be able to cook again, even if only by proxy, had Hannibal in rather lively spirits. 

 

Will even had a surprise for him. Whenever he cleaned and gutted the fish that he’d caught, Will had saved the bones. Seagulls often came by to investigate the proceedings as well, and Will collected whatever feathers they happened to drop on the deck. It had taken him the better part of a week to gather enough materials to put together a centerpiece that, while not quite as flashy or impressive as Hannibal’s, was probably still macabre enough to appeal to Hannibal’s aesthetics. Or so Will hoped. 

 

“When you’re finished with that, Will, you can add the sausage to the soup and let it simmer a few moments more before you serve it.” 

 

Will turned to Hannibal when he was done and crawled onto the bench, hovering over Hannibal to press a kiss to his lips. “Thank you.” 

 

“Anytime, Will.” Hannibal said, pleased. 

 

“I have a surprise for you.” 

 

“Oh?” Hannibal looked more than a little interested. “What kind of surprise, Will?” 

 

“You’ll see.” He said mysteriously. “Do you want me to help you change for dinner?” 

 

“What’s the occasion?” Hannibal asked, curiosity piqued. “Have I missed an anniversary? I apologise for my lapse of memory, Will.” He teased. 

 

Will shook his head, “Do we need an excuse?”

 

“Of course not.” Hannibal agreed, although Will could see he was still a little confused. “But if it would please you, then yes, I would appreciate assistance changing.” 

 

Will smiled, helping Hannibal up and towards the bedroom. ‘Dressing for dinner’ was in no way as elegant as what Hannibal was used to, there weren’t any three-piece suits on board, first of all. No, instead Will helped Hannibal into a sapphire cashmere sweater and a pair of loose grey slacks. Hannibal opted to continue barefoot. 

 

Will made an effort too, choosing dark jeans and his nicest plaid shirt. Whatever, he was injured. Anything beyond sweatpants was kind of a big deal, alright?

 

Hannibal was in the bathroom washing his hands, so Will took the opportunity to go grab the centerpiece from where he’d stashed it so Hannibal wouldn’t find it before it was time. Will wished there was something he could use as a tablecloth, but after floundering for a few moments trying to find something, he gave up. 

 

Instead, he poured two bowls of soup and set out two glasses of iced water since neither of them could drink while they were on their pain medication.

 

“Will?” He heard Hannibal call uncertainly from the bedroom when he realized Will wasn’t waiting for him there anymore. 

 

Will walked over perhaps a little quicker than usual. “I’m here, sorry. I went to set the table and was hoping to be back before you got out of the bathroom.” He took Hannibal’s arm, steadying him as they walked to the galley. 

 

Hannibal could usually manage standing alright, but the rocking of the boat (which Will was far more used to) and his stomach injury made walking more difficult (and Will couldn’t bear the thought of Hannibal falling). 

 

Hannibal froze, stiffening in Will’s grasp as they entered the kitchen. “Will...” He breathed. 

 

Will glanced at him, now worried and self-conscious. Did Hannibal not like it? Was it stupid? Maybe it reminded him too much of the life he’d left behind. Maybe he did miss it after all? Damn it, how could Will be so thoughtless? 

 

“Sorry. I didn’t realize...here, I can take it away...” Will stammered, stepping forward to reach for the centerpiece. Before he could get that far, Hannibal had clamped a hand around his wrist. 

 

“Leave it.” He requested quietly. 

 

Will turned to look at him and was surprised to see his eyes misted over. “Hannibal?” He asked cautiously. “Are you alright?” 

 

Hannibal nodded after a moment. “I am...overcome.” He said. “It’s beautiful, Will.” 

 

Will let out a relieved chuckle. “I’m glad you like it.” He said and helped Hannibal to his seat. 

 

Hannibal reached forward to touch the bones, gently running fingers down the spines and down to the nest of feathers at the base. Will didn’t have the chemicals to properly bleach the bones, but they were cleaned thoroughly. Still, they had a wild, untamed quality to them, only highlighted by the assortment of feathers which were equally unrefined. 

 

“I know I don’t quite have your sense of aesthetics...” Will began but Hannibal cut him off with a shake of his head. 

 

“No, Will. It’s perfect.” He insisted, rotating the centerpiece reverently to be able to appreciate it from every angle. “Thank you.” 

 

Will reached across the narrow table to cup Hannibal’s cheek. “You’re welcome.” He said, as Hannibal turned his face to kiss the center of his palm, a delicate touch somehow more intimate than some of the other kisses they’d shared.

 

“Let us partake of the other fruits of your labor.” Hannibal said, not releasing his hand, but bringing their joined hands down to rest on the table. 

 

“ _ Our _ labor.” Will pointed out and Hannibal tilted his head in acknowledgement. 

 

“Bon appétit, Will.”

 

\---------

  
  


Hannibal’s stitches had come out days ago and the newly healed skin was pink and shiny, but so far it was holding up well. In fact, most of their injuries had scarred over and were well on their way to healing. Hannibal made it a point to make sure Will performed exercises that would keep his shoulder flexible and encourage healthy recovery. It was painful and Will didn’t like it any more than the last two times he’d needed physical therapy for the  _ same damn shoulder _ .  

 

Still, they were in fairly good condition, all things considered, and Will felt confident that they would be able to survive a physical altercation if it came to it, which he dearly hoped it did not. 

 

Hannibal had already started to draft up workout regimens for when their bodies had healed completely. Apparently Hannibal had noticed the slight softening of his middle and the loss of some of his muscle mass. While he assured Will that his own physique was perfectly acceptable, it was clear that Hannibal didn’t think the same of himself. 

 

“Hannibal, you’re-”

 

“Recovering. Yes, I know. That does not detract from my predicament, however.” Hannibal stared disconsolately at the floor-length mirror mounted on the door to their tiny closet. 

 

“Honestly, I’m sure it won’t take you long to return to your preferred body shape, but try to relax for now, alright?” Will suggested from his perch on the edge of their bed. 

 

Hannibal shook his head. “It’s simply unacceptable. It began under Alana’s care, poisoning me with fatty foods and carbohydrates.” He lamented. “I held out as long as I could, but even I cannot live without food indefinitely.”

 

Will frowned. “It couldn’t have been that bad, aren’t the meals state-regulated?” 

 

“Will, I hadn’t seen a vegetable in three years!” Hannibal cried, hands braced on the wall in front of him as he hung his head. 

 

“Which is exactly why with good food and exercise,  _ once you’ve recovered _ , you’ll be back to what you’re used to in no time.” Will offered. 

 

“It is shameful, Will. I have never been so, so... _ slovenly _ .” He despaired. 

 

Deciding that enough was enough, Will stood, coming up to stand behind Hannibal and wrap his arms around his middle ( _ his decidedly plusher-than-usual middle _ ). “You’re perfect the way you are, Hannibal. Come to bed.” 

 

Hannibal allowed the gentle coaxing, but insisted on pulling on a sweater, effectively hiding himself away. 

 

Will crawled over him, inching the hem of the sweater up to reveal his softened middle. Will wasted no time in dipping to kiss his belly, starting with chaste little pecks that gradually became gentle sucking kisses and nibbles as Will carefully tugged little pinches of skin between his teeth before releasing them. 

 

Will’s fingers danced up Hannibal’s sides, and he was gratified by the little huff of breath Hannibal gave. 

 

“Are you ticklish, Doctor Lecter?” Will teased. 

 

“Certainly not.” Hannibal denied. “Merely wondering what you hope to achieve with this - _ ah! _ \- treatment.” He gasped as Will tickled him again. 

 

“I’m hoping to get you to admit that you’re overreacting.” Will said. “And get you to see that you’re still perfect to me, no matter how soft you get in the middle.” 

 

Hannibal huffed and opened his mouth, in likely protest, but Will cut him off with teasing fingers dancing across his ribs as he attempted to speak. 

 

“ _ N-no! _ No no no, stop,  _ stop _ .” Hannibal laughed, limbs trying to curl defensively, but he couldn’t, not with Will’s weight atop him and his muscles weakened with laughter. 

 

“Not till you say it.” Will grinned, pushing his fingers higher. “Say that you’re perfect the way that you are.” He demanded. 

 

“Oh Will, Will, stop! Stop please! Oh my, _ I can’t...I can’t! _ ” He laughed so hard that tears began to leak from the corners of his eyes. 

 

“C’mon, Hannibal. You can do it. Say you’re perfect.” Will coaxed. “I can do this all day, y’know.” 

 

Hannibal shook his head violently, head thrashing from side to side. His ribs ached from laughing, and his cheeks were sore from the wide smile they were stretched into. It was exquisite torture, one that only his darling Will was able to administer. 

 

Please, please, Will, oh,  _ fine _ , I’m perfect, I’m perfect,  _ oh christ _ , I’m perfect...” He sobbed, gasping huge lungfuls of air as he fought for breath. Will’s fingers stopped in an instant, instead working on smoothing the hair back from Hannibal’s forehead. 

 

“There. Was that so hard?” Will smirked. 

 

“Cruel, fiendish creature.” Hannibal gasped. “You end me.” 

 

“I certainly hope not. I have plans for you.” Will promised. 

 

“What...sort of plans?” Hannibal asked hesitantly, no doubt wondering if his torture was, indeed, over.

 

“I think I need to spend some more time showing you just how much I love your tummy. Don’t you think?” Will asked teasingly, dropping back down before Hannibal had a chance to protest. 

 

“Ohhhhh, _ Will! _ ”

 

\-----------

 

Eventually delaying the inevitable was no longer possible and Will began to look for a place to make port. Ideally someplace busy and crowded enough that they could slip through the crowds unnoticed. 

 

Neither was sure when they’d be returning to the boat, if at all, so they packed essentials with them. Namely clothing and medication, and Will’s fishing gear. There was also a handgun with a silencer, along with two pocket knives. Will took the gun and Hannibal the knives.

 

Before they left, they wiped down surfaces and removed as much forensic evidence of their presence as possible. True, their destination was far enough away not to be suspect, but they’d rather not give the FBI any leads if they could help it. 

 

Will found an empty dock in the crowded marina and moored them there. Before embarking from the boat, he took Hannibal’s hand and pulled him close for a brief kiss. Hannibal’s eyes shone as they separated. “Shall we?” He asked, and they were off. 

 

Will tried to tamp down the panic he felt each time they passed someone, worried they’d recognize them. However, a moment of opportunity drove such thoughts from Will’s mind as he saw a man with his car keys clipped to his belt in a crowded area distracted with a box of fishing tackle that was covered in republican party stickers. He was grumbling angrily and fiddling with what looked like a broken latch. 

 

Will didn’t even think twice, approaching swiftly, only distantly aware of Hannibal behind him as he pretended to slip on the wet walkway and then collided with the man “accidentally”, the box he held spilling out a few lures onto the ground. 

 

“Sorry, excuse me.” Will said placatingly even as he unclipped the keys and slipped them into the pocket of his jacket. The man hardly spared him a glance, grunting angrily and muttering curses under his breath as he gathered the lures and returned to the tackle box.

 

And just like that, Will kept walking, now straight towards the parking lot. 

 

“Resourceful boy...” Came Hannibal’s voice in his ear and Will only barely managed to stifle his shiver. 

 

“Not now, Hannibal.” Will hissed back, “Wait until we’re safe at least.” 

 

“Oh but where’s the fun in that, Will?” Hannibal purred. 

 

Will shot a glare at him but kept walking. “The  _ fun  _ is in remaining unapprehended. It’s a little hard to have sex when we’re sitting in separate cells.” 

 

Hannibal looked thoughtful. “Well, we’d have to arrange conjugal visits, certainly.”

 

“We’re not married yet, Hannibal.” Will pointed out, not missing a beat. 

 

Instead it was Hannibal that seemed mystified, watching Will with unconcealed awe. “You have intentions, then.” He said as they arrived in the parking lot, Will checking the keys for the make of the vehicle. Ford. Probably a pickup truck, then. And probably with a trailer hitch, statistically speaking.  

 

Will glanced at Hannibal. “Maybe.” He allowed. “But we’re not engaged yet, either.” 

 

Which, rather than discourage Hannibal, only set his mind to rings and candlelit dinners. 

 

Will scanned the cars, hoping one stood out. Hannibal wasn’t any help, caught up in his fantasies as he was. About halfway through scanning the rows of cars, he noticed a truck with political stickers plastered all over the tailgate. Could it be? 

 

Will tried to unlock it and the lock gave. He grinned, tossing the duffel bags he was carrying into the bed of the truck and sparing a moment to consider the irony of him and Hannibal stealing a truck covered in “Pro-Life” and “Homosexuality is a Sin” messages. It was just the sort of irony he knew Hannibal lived for. 

 

Sure enough, Hannibal looked immensely pleased as he slid into the passenger seat, which meant that either he’d noticed the stickers too, or he was still contemplating proposal ideas. Or both, honestly. 

 

\-------

 

The drive wasn’t as long as Will had thought it’d be. Hannibal was more than happy to let him drive, only slightly reclined in his seat. Sitting upright had gotten easier for Hannibal, for whom the indignity of a constant sprawl across their furniture must have rankled at least a little. 

 

The truck was in excellent condition, but it wasn’t a brand new model. No, it was at least ten years old, but Will couldn’t be bothered to check the papers. Still, it meant that it was unlikely to have any gps tracking features built in, and the man they took it from hardly seemed wealthy enough to care about purchasing one independently. Plus, given his political affiliation, it stood to reason that he probably would have a problem with any device that  _ the government  _ could use to track him. Dumbass. 

 

The gas tank was three-quarters of the way full and Will briefly lamented that they wouldn’t have a reason to stop at a gas station. But honestly, what was a road trip without beef jerky? Just imagining Hannibal’s reaction was enough to keep Will entertained for a while. 

 

“I have been thinking, Will.” Hannibal said at one point, breaking the silence. 

 

“Don’t work too hard, there.” Was Will’s automatic reply, the sarcastic response his father had used constantly when he was a child springing to his lips without thought. 

 

Hannibal was less impressed, if his withering look was anything to go by. 

 

“Sorry. You were thinking?” Will chuckled. 

 

After a beleaguered sigh, Hannibal continued. “I have been considering your words that night.” Neither had to specify  _ which  _ night. “You said you intended to watch The Dragon change me. However, it has occurred to me that he changed you as well.” 

 

“I don’t know if that was The Dragon, exactly.” Will considered. “I didn’t feel changed until I woke up after the fall, and Francis had nothing to do with that.” 

 

“There are moments when I still expect to wake, back in my cell.” 

 

Will raised his eyebrows. “I know what you mean. It’s hard to believe we’ve gotten to this point, after everything.”  

 

“You clung very tightly to your perceived notions of morality.” Hannibal pointed out. Very like him to shift the blame from himself, as if his philosophy were the norm shared by the masses, and Will was the anomaly. He could remember a time where such an attitude would have had him on the defensive, angry and ready to lash out. Now it just seemed...oddly endearing. 

 

“I did, yeah.” Will agreed. “I couldn’t see a future together that was...sustainable, and I couldn’t imagine giving up the life I’d made for myself on a whim.”

 

“What changed? Or do you still hold to this belief?” Hannibal asked, a tightness to his voice that Will immediately wanted to allay. 

 

“I don’t remember much after the fall, just bits and pieces of lucidity like fragments of a shattered dream.” Will began. “But one thing I remember through the haze, was an awareness of you lying next to me. I didn’t see you, or hear you, but I could feel the heat of your body next to mine and it was enough to know that you were still alive.” He explained. “When I woke up, I realized that I was stupid to think that whatever I had without you could be called living.” 

 

Will glanced over at Hannibal, who was staring straight forward out the window, mouth closed but jaw slack. He might as well have been gaping with mouth wide open

 

“I think it was pride.” Will continued. “You were always so damn smug, I hated the thought of admitting that you’d been right about me, and about us. But...after almost losing you...I think I can handle a blow to my pride.” He smiled, looking back over at Hannibal, who still hadn’t recovered. 

  
Will took his right hand off the steering wheel and reached over to take Hannibal’s hand in his own, and slide their palms together. Hannibal accepted the touch automatically and it was a few miles before Will felt him squeeze his hand. No more words were spoken for a long time, but it was alright. Will heard them anyway. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, I may as well take requests into consideration! Is there anything in particular you'd like to see? Any adorable fluffy moment of domesticity or smutty piece of filth? Let me know and I'll see if I can fit it in - I aim to please ;)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Hannigram Day! :D  
> Surprise, surprise, still no Bedelia in this chapter...but we're getting closer! Let's be real, though, it's not like she's the primary reason you're here, anyway. You're here for domestic murder husbands fluff and smut, don't lie :P  
> Anyway, I hope you all enjoy, and a very special thank you to crave-that-mineral on Tumblr for the matching t-shirts idea! ♥

It was dark when they arrived at the house, Hannibal giving him directions until they pulled into the gravel driveway that continued for about half a mile before they reached the house. It was built to look like a cabin, stone and logs, but it was far larger than an ordinary cabin, from what Will could tell in the moonlight.

 

The gravel crunched under their feet as they carried their bags inside, Hannibal unlocking the door with a key left under a potted plant on the porch. Well. He  _ did  _ say the owners were elderly.

 

The house inside was beautiful, an open plan with dark wood floors, earth tone walls and high ceilings. There was a series of large windows in the living room that faced east, ready to welcome the morning’s sun inside.

 

Will and Hannibal set to work removing the wide sheets of cloth that protected the furniture from dust, and opening the windows to circulate the stale air. The house itself was surprisingly clean for not having been visited in so long. Hannibal had said that every summer the couple had the house cleaned, purely for maintenance. It was nearing winter, so they had plenty of time before the house would be disturbed. Will didn’t imagine Hannibal planned on lingering longer than necessary.

 

The linens in the master bedroom didn’t seem dusty, but Will still changed the duvet, instead piling on the quilts he found sealed inside zippered plastic bags. As far as he knew, Hannibal was in the kitchen, inspecting the pantries, so Will went ahead and started to unpack the few clothes that they had been able to bring with them. Even though they weren’t as expensive (or tailored) as what he knew Hannibal to prefer, Will knew Hannibal didn’t appreciate wrinkled or creased clothing. So he hung Hannibal’s clothes and shoved his own into one of the dressers.

 

There were few belongings from the actual owners, and Will supposed that they usually brought everything they needed whenever they had traveled here before.

 

When their bags were unpacked, Will made his way through the house in search of Hannibal, finding him not in the kitchen, but in the living room, sitting at an outdated desktop computer with a credit card sitting on the desk next to him.

 

“Ordering groceries?” Will guessed.

 

“Among other things.” Hannibal confirmed. “Although I would have been done some time ago if not for this beast straight out of the  _ stone age _ .” He complained.

 

Will chuckled, leaning against the side of the desk the way he used to do in Hannibal’s office. “You’re the one that picked the retirement home. Feeling old, Dr. Lecter?” He teased, gratified by the longsuffering sigh he received in response.

 

“It is utterly unconscionable to pay for high-speed internet, yet lack a computer with the operating capabilities to take advantage of it.” He muttered darkly.

 

“Didn’t know you were so technologically inclined, Hannibal.” Will commented.

 

“I appreciate quality in all areas of my life, Will.  _ This _ ...is anything but.” Hannibal groused, one hand balling into a fist as the page he’d been trying to load timed out. Will winced as Hannibal let out a string of what Will assumed (and rather hoped, if only for the novelty of it) were expletives, in a language Will wasn’t familiar with.

 

\----------

 

Will supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised by the laptop and iPad boxes that were delivered along with their groceries and an assortment of expensive-looking toiletries with labels in tiny, illegible cursive. The labels may very well have been written in English, not that he’d be able to tell what they were anyway.

 

Hannibal set to work putting away the food, so Will worked on setting up the laptop and tablet. Feeling like he’d finally rejoined civilization, Will used the laptop to check the news and was surprised to find that it had been about two and a half months since their fall into the ocean. A more thorough search revealed that both he and Hannibal had been pronounced dead, and the official FBI statement said that Will had “...bravely lost his life in the pursuit of the Great Red Dragon, thrown into the ocean by escaped serial killer and cannibal Hannibal Lecter, who Agent Graham pulled down into the depths along with him...”

 

Will snorted, drawing Hannibal’s attention.

 

“What is it, Will?” He asked, walking in from the kitchen, apparently done with what he was doing.

 

“The report on our deaths. It’s all bullshit, basically. This has Kade Prurnell written all over it.”

 

“A cover up?”

 

“Probably.” Will agreed. “I wonder if Jack still has his job after all that.”

 

“Doubtful. But then, less likely things have been known to happen.”

 

“True.” Will read a little further before grudgingly checking Tattle Crime. Freddie’s account was unfortunately close to the truth.

 

“Ugh, I should have killed her when I had the chance.” Will lamented.

 

“Miss Lounds?” Hannibal guessed, stretching out on the couch with the tablet Will had set up for him. Complete with a picture of the Norman Chapel in Palermo set as the background, which Will noticed made Hannibal smile when he saw it.

 

“Yeah. She managed a pretty accurate recounting of what happened, but then she goes on to uh...speculate.”

 

Interest piqued, Hannibal got up to read over Will’s shoulder. “Interesting.” He said after a long moment.

 

“It’s appalling.”

 

“Now Will, it’s a truly fantastic work of fiction.”

 

“She implied we had sex on the edge of the cliff before falling into the Atlantic.” Will said dryly.

 

“Ambitious of us, to be sure, but she certainly has a way with imagery, does she not?”

 

Will shot him an unimpressed glare. “ _ Anyway _ . It’s not just that, she’s apparently released an entire line of merchandise related to us.” He said, clicking over to the store page. “I feel like I should be getting paid royalties.”

 

“Really? You don’t like them?” Hannibal asked after a moment.

 

“Uh, no. What, do  _ you _ ?” Will asked, bordering on scandalized, which only intensified as he caught a glance of the “Daddy’s Little Murder Muffin” shirt towards the bottom of the screen.  _ Christ _ . Now he was blushing.

 

“You must admit the ‘Graham Cracker’ shirt is endearing.”

 

“Absolutely not. No.” Will glared.

 

“What about those? We could match.” Hannibal suggested, pointing to a pair that advertised a couple’s discount. One shirt read “I’m the fucking Chesapeake Ripper” while the other read “I’m fucking the Chesapeake Ripper”.

 

Will sighed, of  _ course  _ those would appeal to Hannibal’s truly horrible sense of humor. “And because I know you wouldn’t be satisfied just wearing them around the house: where, exactly, would we wear them? Given that we are, y’know,  _ fugitives _ .”

 

Hannibal seemed to consider the question seriously. “When we wed, they would make for rather novelty wedding photos, would they not?”

 

Will stared at Hannibal incredulously. “You’re not serious are you?” He asked. “Oh god you are, aren’t you. You’d probably want to send one to Jack and Alana, wouldn’t you?”

 

“What a lovely idea, Will. I wish I’d thought of it.” He said, kissing the top of Will’s head and walking off.

 

Will had the feeling that those shirts would inevitably find their way into the house at some point. Ah well, he’d known what he was getting into when he’d chosen a life with Hannibal.  

 

Will eventually abandoned the laptop when his morbid curiosity had been sufficiently sated.The rest of the day they spent freshening up the rooms they actually intended to use, unlike the other three bedrooms which they wouldn’t be needing. Among the rooms they uncovered was the study, wherein Will found the real reason why Hannibal had wanted to stay here.

 

“I should have guessed.” Will laughed and Hannibal looked at him with interest.

 

“Guessed what, Will?”

 

“The reason that this was the first place that came to your mind.”

 

“And what would that reason be?”

 

“Oh I don’t know, maybe the  _ antique harpsichord _ you’ve been eyeing covetously since you walked in the room. Even though you’re trying to pretend you  _ aren’t  _ about three seconds from abandoning everything to start playing.” Will suggested with a smirk.

 

Hannibal looked at him with a particular wounded expression that Will knew from experience was contrived. “Darling Will, I have not composed in three years.”

 

“Do you honestly expect me to believe that you weren’t composing in your mind palace whenever Alana tried to hold sessions with you?”

 

“Of course not, Will. I was wholly committed to my therapy and rehabilitation.” He said haughtily.

 

Will crossed the room, winding his arms around Hannibal’s neck and leaning up for a kiss, which was returned easily, but Will could tell Hannibal was bemused.

 

Hannibal cupped Will’s face tenderly as they separated. “What was that for?” He asked. “Not that I’m complaining.”

 

Will shrugged. “I just...” The words wouldn’t come, the well of emotion he felt in his chest defied verbal expression. He slid his hands down to Hannibal’s chest, pressing them against him and feeling the breadth of Hannibal’s chest. Always so strong, powerful.

 

“I started seeing Bedelia for therapy after I came back for the Red Dragon case.” Will said.

 

If Hannibal was bothered by the apparent change in topic, he didn’t show it. “Was it helpful for you, given your disdain towards her?”

 

Will shook his head. “It wasn’t about therapy. We mostly talked about you.”

 

Hannibal’s eyebrows rose. “And what did she tell you?”

 

“Not much, really.” Will said, sounding rather bitter about it. “But she did say...that you were in love with me.”

 

Hannibal sighed so softly it was hardly more than an exhale. “Did she?” Will nodded. “Do you think she was right?”

 

Will frowned, not meeting Hannibal’s eyes. “I don’t know what you feel for me. I don’t know if there’s a word for it.”

 

Hannibal tilted Will’s chin up to meet his eyes. “True. But you are, ultimately, avoiding the question.”

 

“I don’t know, Hannibal. I want-”

 

“What do you want, sweet boy?” The words caused the reaction that Hannibal had hoped for: Will’s eyes fluttered shut and his cheeks tinged pink.

 

“I want to believe she was.” Will whispered softly, gasping softly when Hannibal kissed him again, soft lips like silk sliding against his own. It was so soft, barely more than a ghost of pressure on his lips before Hannibal drew back.

 

“Oh Will...” Hannibal breathed. “Love is a paltry word indeed to describe my affections for you.” He said. “But Dr. Du Maurier was not wrong.”

 

Will looked at him with wide eyes, never truly expecting to hear it confirmed. “You...love me.”

 

“Against my better judgement, perhaps, but yes. I love you.” Hannibal teased, dipping his head to slide his cheek against Will’s.

 

“That’s why, then.” Will said after a moment spent nuzzling Hannibal back. Who knew that Will would be able to reduce Hannibal to little more than an over affectionate kitten? But no, feeling the strength coiled in the corded muscles beneath his fingertips, Will knew that Hannibal was no kitten. He was a lion, through and through.

 

Hannibal hummed in question and Will clarified. “That’s why I kissed you. Because I love you too.”

 

Will could practically see the hearts lighting up Hannibal’s eyes right before he was being thoroughly kissed within an inch of his life. It wasn’t a moment later that Hannibal started walking Will back to their bedroom purposefully, a predatory hunger in his eyes that had Will hard in an instant.

 

\------------

 

The process of divvying up chores was as surreal as it was necessary. Neither could honestly be expected to do all the housework, so they had to negotiate. Hannibal insisted that he’d be responsible for the cleanliness of the kitchen in its entirety, even though Will used it as well. Still, Will wasn’t too fond of washing dishes, so he didn’t bother arguing. 

 

Will had started off with the laundry task first, having gotten used to doing it on the boat. However, despite the fact that Hannibal’s clothes were no longer made from dry-clean only fabrics, Will’s laundry practices apparently left something to be desired. 

 

“Will.” 

 

“Yeah?” 

 

“Please tell me I did not just see you throw your white socks into the washer, along with the rest of our clothing.” 

 

Will raised his eyebrows, turning away from the washing machine he’d just finished closing. “Yeah, why?”

 

Hannibal had somewhat of a pained expression on his face. “They will stain, Will. Whites need to be separated from the colored clothing.” 

 

Will could tell Hannibal was making an effort to remain calm, but he really didn’t see the big deal. “Hannibal, we don’t actually own enough whites to run a separate load.” He explained. “It doesn’t bother me, anyway. They’re just socks.” 

 

“Just socks-  _ Will! _ ”

 

After that it was easier to just let Hannibal do the laundry, rather than endure his over-the-shoulder comments every time he passed by the laundry room. Hannibal seemed more at ease with the arrangement as well, Will often catching him humming softly as he worked. Hannibal would lovingly fold towels into thirds and their clothing would be pressed and folded meticulously. Even Will’s t-shirts got ironed and folded, which Will found more amusing than anything. 

 

That said, Will took responsibility for the cleanliness of the floors, since he was usually the one who dirtied them in the first place, heavy work boots tracking in mud and debris every time he left the house. The gentle rhythm of sweeping and mopping was oddly soothing, a task he could easily lose himself in and allow his mind to wander. 

 

There was also the added benefit of a very barefoot Hannibal appearing more often. Both of them usually forewent shoes inside the house, but Hannibal especially seemed to like to feel the cool floor against the soles of his feet, but usually only right after Will had cleaned the floors. While Will didn’t really have an interest in feet in general, there was something heartbreakingly beautiful about the casual vulnerability of Hannibal’s bare feet. It reminded Will how much Hannibal trusted him, and trusted in the stability of their life together. They both felt comfortable enough to let their guard down around each other, and Will’s heart ached with the realization of something he never knew he craved as much as he did. 

 

Will stood on the back porch, having just finished sweeping off the stray leaves and pine needles that the wind often blew onto the wooden deck. He leaned on the broom, looking out at the forest that surrounded them, quiet in the hush of winter. He heard the door behind him open and then gently close and he smiled as Hannibal wrapped sweater-clad arms around his waist. 

 

“Are you done, Will?” Hannibal asked, nosing behind his ear. 

 

Will sighed gently, relaxing into the attentions. “Yeah, you?” 

 

Hannibal hummed in agreement, slipping a hand down the front of Will’s pants to shamelessly fondle Will’s soft - but rapidly hardening - cock. 

 

“You smell like cedar and pine.” Hannibal murmured as he gently worked Will’s length. With his other hand he reached down and flicked open the button and tugged the zipper down, just to give himself enough room to work. Will was pliant in his very capable hands. 

 

“You smell like our laundry detergent and dryer sheets.” Will whispered back, gratified in the amused huff of breath it drew from Hannibal. 

 

“Will you come for me, Will?” Hannibal asked, grinding his own erection against Will’s ass. “Here, in front of nature and God’s creations?” 

 

“Oh  _ fuck _ .” Will gasped, his cock twitching in Hannibal’s grip. Sure, there was no one around for miles, but Hannibal had a way of making something indulgent seem sinful and  _ naughty _ .

 

“What was that, Will?” Hannibal purred, licking up the shell of Will’s ear. “You would rather be  _ fucked  _ in front of the eyes of God?” He asked. “If he saw you now, what would he think? Writhing against me so shamelessly.”

 

Will couldn’t stand Hannibal’s teasing, let alone the velvet slide of Hannibal’s words against his eardrums. It was ecstasy, and it made Will’s knees weak. So quickly Hannibal had learned just the right way to play him like an instrument, to make him sing just as surely as he did with the harpsichord in the study. He effortlessly extracted the reactions he wanted from Will, and there was little Will could do to resist. He’d learned that giving in was usually more fun anyway.  _ Usually _ . 

 

“So close, Hannibal...” Will moaned. “So close...” 

 

“That’s it, Will. Go on then, come for me. Make the angels blush.” 

 

And with that, Will was gone, pulsing hot streaks of come against Hannibal’s hand and the inside of his boxers. Yet another excellent reason for Hannibal to do the laundry instead, if he insisted on dirtying Will’s clothes. 

 

“Good boy...” Hannibal praised, holding Will as he shuddered through the aftershocks. After a moment, he withdrew his hand, and held it up in front of Will. “Such a messy boy.” He mused. “Will you clean up after yourself? Or will I have to do it myself?” 

 

Will was already halfway done licking Hannibal clean when the other half of the question registered. It filled his cheeks with warmth to imagine that, Hannibal licking Will’s come off of his hand.  _ Christ _ . He’d probably treat it as a delicacy. That alone was enough for Will to feel the arousal start to build low in his belly once again. 

 

“C’mon, back to bed. I haven’t taken care of you yet.” Will insisted, turning in Hannibal’s arms and slapping his ass when he turned away from Will to walk back inside. 

 

The indignant glare was enough to send Will into peals of laughter as Hannibal muttered about retribution and  _ naughty little boys _ all the way back to their bedroom. 

 

\------------

However, a couple weeks later, Will was growing restless.

 

Hannibal was sitting on the couch, tablet in his lap as he read some article or other on the internet. He had ordered them both full sets of clothing, with money that Will really didn’t care to find out about. Hannibal had not, however, returned to his usual suits, preferring slacks and sweaters more often than not, likely in deference to the weather.

 

Will, on the other hand, was pacing in front of the floor to ceiling window that revealed a misty afternoon. There had been nothing but showers of ice-cold rain on and off for the past couple days, and the forecasts predicted it would turn to snow any day now. Will’s shoulder was, unfortunately, doing even worse with the damp than it had before he’d been stabbed. He was sore and irritable and was trying very hard not to snap at Hannibal.

 

Granted, Hannibal wasn’t even  _ doing  _ anything, but the sheer fact that he could be so comfortable, so at ease...it was annoying. Will grit his teeth and turned to the liquor cabinet and poured himself a couple fingers of whiskey. He wasn’t on pain meds anymore, hadn’t been for a while, so there was no need for Hannibal to make a fuss about it. Still.

 

“A little early, no?” Hannibal asked mildly, eyes never once leaving the tablet.

 

Bastard. Will balled his hands into fists and resolved to ignore him. It wasn’t his fault Will was in a terrible mood, and Will didn’t want to see the carefully constructed mask of neutrality that belied underlying hurt descend upon Hannibal’s currently calm face. No. Never that.

 

Hannibal, however, didn’t seem to appreciate being ignored, even if it was for his own good. “What’s wrong, Will?” He asked, carefully setting his tablet aside and crossing one leg over the other, assuming what Will mentally called his ‘therapy pose’.

 

“Nothing.” Will groused, then realized he sounded like a despondent housewife and tried again. “Everything.” He shook his head and sunk into an armchair, glaring at his almost-empty glass of whiskey. Hadn’t he  _ just  _ filled it?”

 

“You have become restless.” Hannibal pointed out.

 

“Brilliant deduction.” Will snarked.

 

“What would you like to do?” Hannibal asked, tone still infuriatingly even.

 

“I’m tired, I’m sore, and I’m pissed off.” Will listed off, impatience coloring his voice.

 

“What hurts, specifically?”

 

“Everything.” Will said unhelpfully. “But mostly my shoulder.”

 

Hannibal nodded like he expected the answer. “Come away from the window, Will, the cold won’t help you any.” He patted the space next to him on the couch. Well, it  _ was  _ in front of the fireplace, cheerfully blazing away.

 

With a very put-upon sigh as his token protest, Will complied, refilling his glass on the way back. He sank into the couch cushions, and glared at the fire, annoyed that Hannibal was right and the warmth was soothing the pain a little.

 

“I could give you a massage, if you’d like?” Hannibal offered, and who gave him the right to be so irritatingly perfect, even when Will was kind of being an ass?

 

“Please...” Will requested sullenly.

 

Hannibal’s entire posture spoke of pleased victory and Will resisted the urge to punch him  _ just a little _ . Not even that hard.

 

Hannibal encouraged him to turn in his seat so he could reach Will’s back. The first touch was like fire, all molten heat. “How are your hands so warm?” Will moaned, hanging his head in encouragement.

 

Hannibal briefly pressed lips curled in a smile against the top of Will’s spine and started kneading the tension out of Will. Will was aware of the little noises of pleasure he was making, and a part of him thought he should feel embarrassed, but  _ honestly _ , Hannibal had seen him come already. Repeatedly. In comparison, this was still strictly PG.

 

Hannibal’s hands were like...like the coffee he’d made Will that morning in his Baltimore house, all those years ago. They were like the warm and hearty soup he’d walked Will through creating on the boat. They were endangered birds drowned in liquor and snifters of brandy in front of a roaring fire. They were a brain on fire, riddled with fevered hallucinations. They were like blood pouring down his skin, soaking through his clothes and puddling in his shoes.

 

Eyes closed, Will imagined those hands, stripping the skin, the flesh, the aching muscles right off of his bones. He imagined the scar tissue gone, removed by Hannibal’s dexterous fingers, sharpened to claws in his mind. He focused on the heat that seemed to sink directly to the core of him, radiating from each place where Hannibal’s skin made contact with his. Even through the barrier of his clothing, he felt it like a branding iron.

 

His thoughts disconnected from his mind as he drifted in the darkness with his eyes firmly shut for an indeterminate amount of time. Time had no meaning here, not with Hannibal’s hands on him. Hands that curled around his torso and pulled him to a broad, equally warm, chest. With eyes still closed, Will curled into the contact, only barely aware of a heavy blanket pulled across him.

 

Will woke some time later, warm and comfortable, apparently having fallen asleep on top of Hannibal, who was still lying beneath him. That’s when Will noticed something unnaturally hard and flat resting against the top of his head. He frowned in confusion, tilting his head to try and get a look at it.

 

“Really Hannibal? You’re using me as a stand for your tablet?” He asked dryly, but with none of his earlier annoyance.

 

“Ah, Will. I trust you had a pleasant nap?” Hannibal asked, removing the tablet and setting it on the coffee table, next to the glass of whiskey he’d extracted from Will’s grasp at some point before he would have dropped it.

 

“Yeah, I feel a lot better. Thank you.” Will said, rubbing his face in the soft material of Hannibal’s sweater. The fire had dwindled, but with the thick quilt Hannibal had pulled over them, Will hardly even noticed.

 

Hannibal wrapped his arms around Will, holding him close. “You’re very welcome, Will.” He said. “The damp is not kind to me either, but the warmth and the fire make it bearable.”

 

“Hmm... _ your _ warmth makes it bearable.” Will yawned.

 

Hannibal chuckled, “Are you hungry? Or would you prefer a bed, to return to sleep?”

 

Will shrugged, “Not hungry yet. But more sleep sounds good. Join me?” He asked, not really seeing the appeal in a cold and empty bed, but also realizing that Hannibal probably wasn’t nearly as comfortable as Will, slumped against the arm of the couch as he was.  

 

“Of course.” Hannibal agreed.

 

Will sat up slowly, drawing the quilt around him as he got up and holding it tightly as he walked to their bedroom, Hannibal not far behind. Hannibal didn’t usually sleep much, let alone nap, but he was more than content to lay in bed while Will did. Perhaps it was because it was reminiscent of their routine for the first few weeks on the boat, before Hannibal’s sleep cycles normalized. Whatever the reason, Will loved it...even when Hannibal used him as a convenient place to prop his tablet, or his books, or his sketchpad...okay, so there may have been a pattern forming.

 

Either way, the weather outside was shit, and Will could think of no better way to laze away the afternoon than in the safe cocoon of Hannibal’s arms.

 

\--------

 

“So.” Will said one evening over dinner - an amazing peanut chicken stir-fry served with rice and steamed vegetables covered in a sauce whose explanation Will had only been half-listening to in favor of ogling Hannibal’s backside.

 

“Yes?”

 

“Christmas is coming up.” Will stated mildly.

 

“In a couple weeks, yes.” Hannibal agreed, patiently waiting for Will to get to the point.

  
“Shall we invite Bedelia to dinner? Her only company otherwise will be her wine collection. Assuming she hasn’t drunk it all by now.”

 

“She has been marinating a long time.” Hannibal noted. “I began the process while we were in Florence.”

 

Will grit his teeth at the reminder of the time Hannibal had shared with her. It was one of the drives that motivated him to make her suffer. Will’s silence drew Hannibal’s attention.

 

“I apologize, Will. It was thoughtless of me to mention it.”

 

Will shook his head, “No, by all means, continue. I want to hear it. No, I  _ need  _ to hear it. All of it.” He insisted darkly.

 

Hannibal hesitated. “What is there to tell, Will?” He ventured. “She was a poor substitute for the companionship I truly desired, but my state of mind at the time lent itself to...rash decisions.”

 

“Rash decisions.” Will repeated, voice hollow. “Your aliases were married.” The calmness in Will’s voice was belied by the raging storm in his eyes when he turned to glare at Hannibal. 

 

“In paper only, yes-”

 

“You mean to tell me you didn’t share a bed?” Will interrupted. “Did you fuck her?” He demanded. “Hannibal,  _ did you _ ?”  

 

“Will, I-”

 

“I knew it.” Will accused, jealousy pooling slick and tar-like in his gut. He pushed his almost-empty plate away from him to have room to rest his elbows as he scrubbed hands down his face. He wanted to run. He wanted to leave the room, maybe even the house itself, and walk until he couldn’t feel his legs. But the same urge that made him want to be far away from Hannibal and the cloying perfume Will could almost imagine hovering over him like a cloud, also made Will want to pull Hannibal close to him, claw at his shoulders and hold him tight enough that he’d never be able to leave. No one but Will would ever touch him again.

 

“Will...” Hannibal said, so quietly that Will almost thought he imagined it.

 

“What.” He replied flatly.

 

“As...flattering as I find your jealousy, there truly is no need. Not when I am already yours.” Hannibal pointed out.

 

Will tried to calm his breathing with limited success. “Yeah, but that  _ obviously  _ wasn’t always true, was it?” He felt the rage coiled in his muscles and wondered what would happen if he let it go, let it run its course.

 

“Make me, then.” The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees. Will looked up and met Hannibal’s eyes, darker than he’d seen them in a long time.

 

“Excuse me?” Will asked, mouth dry and pulse racing so fast he could hear it in his ears.

 

“Make me yours.” Hannibal dared him, each word spoken deliberately and earnestly. And oh, how Will wanted to leap across the table and do just that. But-

 

“I’d rather not hurt you.” He said, eyes never leaving Hannibal’s, which grew impossibly darker and fathomless. Black pits of void, reminding him of the monster he’d fallen in love with just as surely as the man. Will hadn’t realized how much he’d missed that monster until he saw it before him once more.

 

“You’re welcome to  _ try _ .” Hannibal taunted, and there was no missing the pleased expression on his face when Will stood up suddenly, knocking his chair to the floor in the process.

 

Hannibal taunted Will with every look, and the way the shadows fell on his face pooled his eyes in darkness, giving him an ethereal, otherworldly appearance. Even as Will stood before him, gripping a handful of silken hair and jerking his head back, Hannibal licked his lips and blinked slowly, some eldritch god or demon staring back at him through the abyss.

 

Will crashed their lips together, delicate skin caught between gnashing teeth and writhing tongues, a desperate claiming as Hannibal pushed just hard enough to rile Will into pushing back.

 

The world twisted on it’s axis, gravity and magnetism losing their meanings as bodies scrambled for orientation, because Will knew Hannibal had never been a passive thing to be claimed. Oh no, that’s not how this had ever worked. And now, clambering over each other on the floor as they fought for dominance, Will felt his resolve grow. Among other things. 

 

Like beasts, they rutted together, still clothed as hands clawed and teeth bit. No holds were barred, no punches pulled, the blood that spilled was hard-won between them. Hands tore at the clothes of the other, rending fabric at the seams as they grappled, bruises rising mottled and angry in their wake.

 

When slick flesh met, mouths broke to howl out pleasure and rationality returned for a few feverish moments as the fight shifted from pain to pleasure.

 

“ _ Bed _ .” They demanded of each other, one or both speaking the words, or perhaps merely articulating them with their bodies. Still, they stumbled down the hallway, never breaking from each other for a moment before landing on a nest of warm blankets and cool sheets. Here, in the den of their making, they were equal. Two vicious predators staking their claims on one another.

 

Here is where they melded, where in silent agreement slick fingers pressed against tight muscle slowly unfurling. Here is where they toed the line of pain and pleasure, tender touches and biting bruises, cries of rapture and cries of agony.

 

At the first push of one inside the body of the other, the urgency of the claim seemed to lessen as the monsters within sensed they were no longer needed, safely returning to the caves in which they slumbered, lying in wait for the next opportunity to feast on blood and violence.

 

“Oh god oh god oh god...” Slick pants falling from Will’s mouth in a prayer as he was enveloped completely by Hannibal’s body.

 

“Will...” A broken sob torn from the depths of Hannibal’s soul as Will gripped his thighs, pushing them ever higher, ever further apart. Hannibal was perhaps not completely healed enough for this, but nothing would reopen, he was confident in this at least.

 

Will buried himself in Hannibal, pistoning his hips as if to core out a space for him to lay always, to dwell here within the body of his love as they’d desired the first time their bodies had come together in pleasure.

 

Hannibal encouraged him in blunt nails that scratched cruelly down his back and cries that would have woken the dead, and Will was only too happy to comply, moving ever faster, ever harder, chasing the inevitable end that neither truly wanted to see arrive.

 

Still, refraining was no longer an option, not when Will wrapped his hand around Hannibal’s aching, leaking erection and stroked him, thumbing the tip and dipping a thumbnail into the slit - a cruel but effective tease, which had Hannibal coming almost as if on cue. Hot tears sprung to their eyes as emotion welled and overflowed and they both found their release. Will’s came almost as a surprise, but how could he not succumb to the tight heat of Hannibal when he clenched around him in ecstasy?

 

Will’s hips kept working weakly even as his orgasm tapered off, as if to prolong the sensation, but inevitably he slipped out of the welcoming clutch of Hannibal’s body with a slide and a shiver that wracked them both.

 

“Oh my god...” Will breathed, utterly exhausted.

 

Hannibal, eyes tightly shut as he worked on catching his breath, merely nodded in response.

 

Will reached over to the nightstand to retrieve the package of wet wipes he’d convinced Hannibal was the most practical solution, since neither enjoyed the sensation of dried bodily fluids and a trip to the bathroom took them too far from the other. He cleaned them both, swiping tenderly between Hannibal’s legs in a way that had him squirming involuntarily, but otherwise didn’t protest.

 

Hannibal, post-coital lassitude still affecting his coordination, wasn’t much help in getting them both under the sheets, but Will appreciated the effort. They curled around each other as they often did, Will draped across Hannibal’s back, hand tucked between his legs.

 

“When did you even buy lube?” Will sleepily asked after a moment of silence.

 

“Hmm, along with the first set of groceries, I believe.” Was the reply.

 

“A little presumptuous.” Will teased.

 

“I prefer to be prepared for every eventuality, when possible.” Hannibal said. “Can’t have you trying to re-purpose our imported organic olive oil as lubricant.”

 

Will snorted, “Oh please, like I want any of that fancy shit near my ass.” He countered. “I’d just as well use margarine on you.” He teased, just to chuckle at the deeply affronted noise Hannibal made.

 

“Never bring that rubbish into our home, William.” He said sternly, the use of Will’s full name tacked on for added intensity.

 

“Right...maybe don’t look in the refrigerator, then.”

 

“ _ Will _ ...”

 

“Chill, I’m just messing with you, Hannibal.” Will said placatingly, pressing kisses to Hannibal’s bare shoulders.

 

“Yes, I believe you’ve done a fairly good job of that already.”

 

Will frowned immediately, trying to check Hannibal for serious injury without jostling their positions too much. “Did I hurt you?” He asked worriedly.

 

Hannibal hummed consideringly. “I don’t believe so. Aside from the bruises, scratches, bites, and the friction burn from rolling on the rug in the dining room. And perhaps residual soreness tomorrow.”

 

Will nodded, he was in much the same shape, although hearing Hannibal list it out that way made it seem a lot worse than it was. “Should I go get the first aid kit?” He asked apologetically, not actually remembering how deep some of those bites were.

 

“That should not be necessary, given that neither of us is bleeding profusely. Given what we have already survived, I’d say this is fairly low on our list of injuries dealt to one another.”

 

Will chuckled, “That’s unfortunately true.” He agreed.

 

“Do you believe yourself to be successful?” Hannibal asked.

 

“Hmm?”

 

“You said you were claiming me as yours. Do you believe you were successful?” Hannibal explained.

 

“Yeah, but that’s the wrong question to be asking.” Will countered. “Do  _ you  _ feel like mine?” He asked, punctuating his words with a gentle squeeze of Hannibal’s soft cock.

 

“Oh Will...” Hannibal sighed softly. “I always have...”

 

\------------

 

Hannibal was up and awake before Will was, which wasn't at all unusual. However, the events of the night before seemed to tinge the realization that Will was alone in bed with a very specific kind of dread.

 

They’d taken a rather large step, a step that until now they hadn’t even broached the topic of. Will’s heart suddenly ached for Hannibal, not knowing if he’d ever been the recipient of  penetrative sex before. Will wished they’d had time to talk about it, and in the harsh light of day, it felt like he’d taken something from Hannibal he had no right to.

 

A sick nausea roiled his stomach and he was overcome with a wave of self-loathing. Surely, though, if Hannibal hadn’t been okay with it, he would have said something, right? But...not necessarily. Hannibal  _ often  _ let Will get away with things that he wouldn’t allow of anyone else. It was, in a way, a staple of their relationship. But usually it only covered things like Will’s disorganization and tracking mud inside the house.

 

Will didn’t want to get away with this. The mere idea of ‘getting away’ implied wrongdoing. It implied that there was fault, blame to lay. Had he taken advantage? It had been a whirlwind of emotion and lust and when Will had pressed his fingers into Hannibal, had his whine been of pleasure or dread?

 

Will bit his knuckle to muffle the sob that wanted to tear its way out. The worst part was, Hannibal might not even realize the full scale of Will’s trespasses. After all, he was always encouraging Will to embrace his darker side, but as the only person in the house clinging to some concept of morality, Will was disgusted with himself. This  _ wasn’t  _ what he wanted for them. Sure, he and Hannibal had often sparred and taken each other’s blows -  _ but never like this _ .

 

Oh god, he really hoped that Hannibal had done that particular act before. The idea that Will, and for his first time no less, had-...no, it was unconscionable, but the doubt lingered. It lingered and festered the longer that Will remained in bed. He had to make it up to Hannibal somehow, he had to fix this.

 

He pushed aching limbs out of bed and shuffled to the shower, hoping that the hot water might help relieve some of the soreness, in both body and soul.

 

When he finally made it to the kitchen, it was to find Hannibal, in his robe with disheveled hair, making breakfast. He clearly hadn’t showered yet, even though he’d likely been up for quite some time already. Will wasn’t sure what to make of it, but the sight of the bites and bruises on Hannibal’s neck, mottled and livid and vicious-looking, only made Will feel sicker.

 

“Good morning.” He offered cautiously, offering a tentative smile when Hannibal turned around to greet him.

 

“Good morning, Will. I trust you slept well?” Hannibal asked, walking over to kiss him softly as they did every morning before going back to the pan of eggs on the stove.

 

“Yeah, I did. You?” He asked, a little unnerved by how...normal Hannibal was acting. And he was fairly certain that it was, in fact, an act.

 

“Splendidly.” Hannibal smiled, bringing Will a cup of coffee, prepared exactly the way he preferred it.

 

“Thanks.” He said as he took the cup, the first sip revealing it to be just as delicious as always. “How do you feel?” He asked gently, after a moment.

 

Hannibal tilted his head minutely as if considering the question before rolling his shoulders in a slow stretch. “Pleasantly sore.” Was the response, which...wasn’t really very helpful.

 

“You sure?” Will pressed. “I know I was pretty rough with you last night.”

 

Hannibal shrugged, but as he was facing away from Will, it felt almost dismissive. “It’s quite alright. I am more than capable of enduring any lingering discomfort.” He reassured, but it wasn’t at all reassuring.

 

Enduring. Enduring.  _ Enduring _ . The word rattled around Will’s mind, bouncing off of synapses and quickening his heart rate. You don’t  _ endure  _ the things you like or enjoy. They aren’t supposed to be a chore. And yet.

 

_ I’m sorry _ was too paltry a phrase, too banal for the two of them. Will needed something more, some kind of gesture that would appeal to Hannibal’s sense of theatricality. But what?

 

They ate breakfast as they did every morning, hands entwined on the table, although Will was somewhat quieter than usual, more subdued. Hannibal didn’t call attention to it, but Will thought that he’d noticed anyway. Still, he didn’t try to drag Will into conversation, seemingly pleased to eat with him in companionable silence.

 

Will offered to wash the dishes while Hannibal showered, and received a grateful smile for his efforts. Maybe it was enough to do things like this? Small gestures to show his love? No, of course it wasn’t enough, Will decided. It had to be powerful, make a statement.

 

He considered everything that they’d done together, the time they’d spent. Given the fact that they were supposed to be in hiding, Will couldn’t exactly fly him back to Palermo and give him an apology blowjob in the Norman Chapel itself, even if the idea did have some merit.

 

Will packed up his fishing gear and left for most of the day, deciding it was time to sample the lake and see what kind of fishing there was to be had there. He left Hannibal a note and packed a light lunch with him and then set off, hoping to clear his head in the process.

 

When he returned, the sun had set and Hannibal was in the process of making dinner. Will had managed to catch a couple reasonably-sized fish that would make for an excellent lunch or dinner the following day.

 

“Hello, Will.” Hannibal greeted, “Are you hungry?”

 

“Hey. Yeah, I’m starving.” He said ruefully. “How was your day?”

 

Hannibal paused, then replied, “Rather unfortunately quiet.” Which was Hannibal’s way of saying that he’d missed Will.

 

“I missed you too.” Will offered, bumping his shoulder affectionately as he moved to the sink to start gutting the fish. He hated leaving it for later, and preferred to gut and clean as soon as possible after fishing.

 

“You seem troubled, Will.” Hannibal observed after a moment of watching Will clean the fish.

 

“I’m not.” Will replied quickly, internally wincing at the way his words sounded very much like denial.

 

Hannibal sighed, a sound that to Will’s ears, sounded more sad than anything. “I thought there were no longer secrets between us.” As if Will wasn’t feeling shitty enough.

 

“It’s not a secret.” Will countered. “I just...there’s something I’m trying to work out.” He said evasively.

 

“You know you can talk to me, Will.” Hannibal reminded him. “You never seemed to have a problem doing so before.”

 

“It’s fine, really.” Will insisted, barely managing to suppress the urge to jump when Hannibal materialized at his side, much closer than Will anticipated.

 

“I do so wish you would confide in me.” Hannibal murmured, a hand on the back of Will’s neck, stroking his nape with his thumb.

 

“I will!” Will protested, “Just-”

 

“Just not now.” Hannibal finished, lips pursed and expression shuttered. “Very well. Dinner is ready.” He said and turned away sharply, taking bundles of dishes and silverware to set the table.

 

Will hung his head when Hannibal left the room. This...wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

 

Dinner was awkward, perhaps the most awkward that they’d ever had, which was saying something, considering once Hannibal had tried to have Will’s  _ brain  _ for dinner. Conversation was stilted, with Will trying to initiate, but Hannibal insisting upon replying with monosyllabic answers. The hand that Will usually held during dinner was fisted tightly in Hannibal’s napkin. Will wondered just how fantastically he’d managed to fuck up.

 

Hannibal went to bed early, and it felt like he was running away. Will knew Hannibal deserved his space, so he let him be, instead surfing the internet with a glass of whiskey in his hand for ideas on how to make it up to Hannibal. Two hours and three glasses of whiskey later, Will stumbled into their room, no closer to an answer than before. 

 

He wasn’t drunk, tolerance built up too much for that, but he was definitely pleasantly buzzed. He undressed in the dark hastily, not wanting to turn on a light that might disturb Hannibal, and slipped into bed beside him.

 

Will debated with himself for a while, unsure whether or not to reach out for Hannibal or if that’d only make things worse. He compromised, sliding as close to Hannibal as possible without overtly touching him. Even then, the tiny amount of distance between them felt like an ever-widening chasm. Will could barely fall asleep, but when he did, it was fitful and restless.

 

When Will woke up, he was alone again, which he’d been expecting on some degree. He remembered having had dreams, but he couldn’t remember any of them. Still, the feeling of having been busy all night lingered, making him feel like he hadn’t slept at all. In desperate need of caffeine, Will drifted to the kitchen, surprised when Hannibal wasn’t in the room, nor had the coffee been started.

 

Will was instantly apprehensive, ducking his head into the living room only to find that Hannibal wasn’t there, either. He checked the garage next, gratified that the pickup truck was still there, before checking the other rooms.

 

In retrospect, Will knew he should have checked the study first, but a panic had consumed him at the thought of Hannibal having left. No, Hannibal was in the study, in his robe, hair unruly and hands gripping a book that Will knew he wasn’t reading.

 

Will breathed a sigh of relief, and Hannibal glanced at him with eyes so bloodshot Will wondered if he hadn’t slept either. “Good morning.” He said, but there was no sincerity behind those words, merely a perfunctory greeting that tumbled from Hannibal’s lips but had little meaning of its own.

 

“Hannibal...” Will exhaled, still standing awkwardly in the doorway.

 

“I have not made breakfast, I apologize.” Hannibal said, sounding anything but apologetic. “I find I have no appetite today.”

 

“It’s fine. Is there something I can do for-”

 

“No, thank you Will. I can manage just fine.” Hannibal interrupted, turning back to his book, knuckles white in his grip. It was a dismissal if Will had ever seen one.

 

Nodding, even though there was no one to see the gesture, Will returned to the living room. His appetite had gone, too. He remembered the computer he’d discarded the night before and returned to it, reopening the pages he’d been looking at the night before. This had gone on long enough already, and Will wasn’t happy to let it go on any further. Resolute in his decision, he completed the purchase he’d begun the night before, the confirmation page reassuring him that it would be delivered later that same day.

 

When the doorbell rung some hours later, Will nearly sprinted to the front of the house, determined to get there before Hannibal. He needn’t have bothered, since Hannibal was nowhere to be found. Or rather, he was still ensconced in the study, like he had been all day.

 

Will signed for the bundle and thanked the delivery boy, who was too busy staring at his phone to pay much attention. Shutting the door, Will checked over his order, satisfied that it was what he’d asked for and then tentatively made his way back to the study.

 

Hannibal was still there, in much the same position Will had left him, but now holding a different book.

 

Wordlessly, Will walked around the couch to kneel at Hannibal’s feet, gently placing the bundle in his arms on Hannibal’s lap. And then he waited.

 

Hannibal had not looked up from his book, studiously making a show of ignoring Will. But when the bundle was pressed into his lap, he set the book aside. To anyone else, they would have thought that Hannibal’s face was nothing but impassive. To Will, who had been carefully watching for this moment and knew Hannibal so intimately, it was obvious that Hannibal was utterly overcome by the gesture, if a little confused.

 

With the book sitting next to him on the couch, Hannibal lifted the bouquet of roses from his lap and inspected them with something akin to awe. Reverently, he touched the silken petals before dragging his thumb down one of the stems, deliberately pricking his finger on a thorn. Hannibal watched the drop of blood well on the tip of his thumb before wrapping his lips around the puncture and sucking, his eyes fluttering shut with a deep, longing sigh.

 

Hannibal’s eyes opened after a moment, looking straight into Will’s, still kneeling at Hannibal’s feet, as if in supplication. Will tentatively ran his hands up Hannibal’s calves, to his knees, where he then rested his hands. 

 

“I need to apologize.” He murmured, pressing a kiss to a robe-covered knee. Will had the strong suspicion that Hannibal wasn’t wearing anything beneath the robe, and it was confirmed by how close he could feel the heat of Hannibal’s skin beneath his lips.

 

“For what, dear Will?” Came the reply, equally low in volume.

 

Will scooted closer, encouraged by the way Hannibal hadn’t pushed him away yet. His hands drifted up a couple more inches to Hannibal’s thigh. “For not treating you with the...reverence you deserve.”

 

One of Hannibal’s eyebrows ticked up, in interest or surprise, Will wasn’t completely sure. Perhaps both.

 

“Have you come for penance? A sinner to beg forgiveness at my feet?” He asked calmly.

 

“We are both sinners in our own right, but I don’t want to trespass against you.” Will said carefully.

 

“And yet, you have.” Said neither as statement or question, but as a combination of the two.

 

“Yes.” Will said, dropping his eyes and hanging his head to focus on the weave of the fine fabric of Hannibal’s robe - a deep blue, almost black. He pressed his cheek against Hannibal’s knee in a submissive gesture, which Hannibal then rewarded with a hand that ran once through his curls.

 

“Penitent monks often used self-flagellation as means of completing their penance, Will. What will you use?”

 

Will began to tug the robe gently aside and kissed Hannibal’s knee directly, pressing little kisses that continued upwards a few inches, still not straying into indecent territory...as if they still had a concept of decency between them.

 

“Abject worship.” Will whispered, eyes looking up to make eye contact through his eyelashes, the way he knew would make Hannibal’s knees weak.

 

Sure enough, as if on cue, Hannibal’s eyes darkened as his pupils threatened to overtake his irises completely. At Will’s touch, Hannibal’s knees fell open in a smooth slide. Somehow managing to keep a mien of superiority, despite the traditionally submissive gesture, making it truly feel as if he were doing Will a  _ favor  _ by allowing him this.

 

The thought went straight to Will’s dick, but this wasn’t about him.

 

Hannibal wasn’t hard, but Will didn’t let himself be discouraged. This was, after all, rather the point. He pressed forward, nuzzling the fabric still draped over Hannibal’s crotch, inhaling the rich, musky scent of Hannibal. It was nearly completely devoid of the scents of his usual bath products, a testament to how greatly Will’s actions had affected him - Hannibal had not even mustered the will to bathe, let alone dress.

 

Will gently parted the fabric, revealing a cock that, while mostly soft, was beginning to plump, albeit slowly. Will’s mouth watered, but he prolonged his own desire to taste Hannibal, instead taking him in his hand and rubbing the shaft against the side of his face. He kept eye contact as Hannibal’s cock brushed the scar on his face, leaving a trail of cooling precome in its wake. The only indication that Hannibal was affected by Will’s actions was the tiny, almost imperceptible hitch in his breath, and of course, his ever hardening length.

 

Will ran the tip of his cock over his closed lips before pulling back and making a show of licking the wetness off of them. Then he ducked back down and pressed a sucking kiss against the underside of Hannibal’s cock. Holding his length out of the way, Will pressed between Hannibal’s thighs to lick at his balls, lipping and sucking them into his mouth one at a time as Hannibal slid down the couch just a little, just enough to give him easier access. Will was only too happy to please, laving them with the flat of his tongue before sucking them once more.

 

Will licked a stripe up the underside of Hannibal’s erection, now fully hard and leaking liberally at the tip. Will smiled, kissing his way up to the very tip, where it hid partially obscured by Hannibal’s foreskin. Will loved that foreskin, loved the way it felt in his mouth, in his hand. He pumped his hand slowly, tugging the loose skin up his shaft to gather at Hannibal’s tip in an irresistible pout. He sealed his lips around the head, licking and sucking at the tip of his cock and his foreskin equally, much in the same way he’d kiss Hannibal’s mouth.

 

Will made out with Hannibal’s cock, tonguing into his slit, into the creases of his foreskin, until he could feel the fine tremors in Hannibal’s thighs, the hairline fractures in his ironclad control. Will then began to lick his way up and down his length, tasting every inch of him before finally taking him in his mouth fully.

 

When Will sank down, taking his cock as far as he could until it was bumping up against the back of his throat, holding Hannibal there for a moment, before pulling back up again, Hannibal let out a gasp like a sob and sunk down even further. With one elbow propped up on the armrest of the couch while the hand covered Hannibal’s mouth, the other tightly gripped his robe, likely crushing the fine fabric, Hannibal was slowly but surely losing his composure.

 

Will wrapped a hand around Hannibal’s, the one with the hold on his robe, and gently brought the hand to the back of his head with an encouraging smile. Hannibal took the suggestion, tangling his fingers in Will’s hair firmly. The grip was tight, but didn’t restrict Will’s movement, more a claim than a restraint, and it suited Will just fine.

 

Sucking Hannibal back down, moaning around what was in his mouth, the hand that wasn’t pumping Hannibal’s length inched downwards to cup his balls and roll them between his fingers. Will opened his mouth, swiping Hannibal’s erection across his swollen, cherry red lips, slick with precome and saliva alike. In a moment of sudden inspiration, Will turned his face to fit Hannibal’s cock in the pocket of his cheek, rubbing the sensitive head against the raised scar tissue that, while fully healed, was still ridged and heavily textured.

 

The symbolism, perhaps, more than the actual sensation, had Hannibal panting and canting his hips up in little thrusts into Will’s mouth. He didn’t warn Will that he was about to come, but Will felt the tightening in his balls, the familiar tensing of muscles right before Hannibal spilled into his mouth. It wasn’t a wonderful taste, but it was bearable, something worth doing if only for the look on Hannibal’s face as Will swallowed him down. He allowed a couple drops to escape to appeal to Hannibal’s sense of aesthetics, which he knew he’d hit the mark when Hannibal hauled him into his lap to kiss him silly.

 

Will let Hannibal control the kiss, lick the remnants of his release out of Will’s open and willing mouth. After a moment, Will began to push back until their kisses were familiar and well-practiced. When they broke for air, it was with wide smiles and adoring glances.

 

“Beautiful boy...” Hannibal praised, palm cupping Will’s cheek so his thumb could swipe over Will’s lips, pressing them just enough for them to mold to the shape of Hannibal’s finger.

 

“I’m sorry, Hannibal.” Will said, pressing his face into the crook of Hannibal’s neck, a position he had grown to favor immensely.

 

“It’s quite alright, Will.” Hannibal forgave. “Although I do wish you would tell me what bothered you so much.”

 

Will frowned in confusion. “Wait. What do you mean?”

 

Hannibal leveled him a dry look. “The thoughts that have occupied your mind to the point of nearly pushing me out entirely.”

 

Will hung his head. “I was ashamed of myself.” He admitted. “I took advantage of you, Hannibal, and I...couldn’t live with myself, knowing I’d done that...”

 

Now it was Hannibal’s turn to frown. “What on  _ earth  _ has gotten into that brilliant mind of yours, Will? Whatever are you talking about?”

 

Will swallowed nervously, this wasn’t how he’d imagined this conversation going at all. “Hannibal...after  _ that night _ , I...was worried that I’d been too rough. You’d never even mentioned if you’d done that before and the thought that I’d-” He shook his head, face coloring.

 

Hannibal’s face softened in understanding. “Oh my darling Will, it is ever apparent that I do not deserve you. Not that I’d ever be able part with you, even if that were an option, mind.” He sighed, hugging Will close. “You feared that because I often make allowances for you, I would not voice discomfort or distress in the bedroom?”

 

Will nodded, unsurprised that Hannibal would be able to piece together the rest of his thinking, once pointed on the right track.

 

“Will, allow me to set your mind at ease.” Hannibal murmured, pressing gentle kisses to Will’s hair, the shell of his ear, the curve of his neck. “While you are correct in that it had been my first experience of that particular act, you must know I could not possibly regret it. Furthermore, you must trust me when I say that I have no problem voicing my objections when there are truly objections to be had.”

 

Hannibal’s words both comforted Will, and only heightened his anxiety. It  _ had  _ been Hannibal’s first time, and Will had been so  _ rough  _ with him. Will immediately resolved that if Hannibal ever allowed him to again, he’d make sure the next time was appropriately loving. Gentle and tender, instead of a lustful, blood-smeared desperation.

 

“You sure you wouldn’t just...indulge me? At your own expense?” Will asked skeptically.

 

“Not in this case, no.” Hannibal said. “You see, Will, the difference is that when I don’t comment on the mud you track in the house, or your terrible laundry habits, you still know they displease me. I wish for honesty between us, so no, I will not conceal my displeasure from you.”

 

“You promise?” Will said in a voice both hopeful and more than a little relieved.

 

“Yes, dear heart. You have my word.”

 

Will nodded, suddenly feeling emotionally drained after the last couple days. He mentally chastised himself for not going to Hannibal directly with his worries, rather than stewing in his own destructive thoughts until Hannibal had noticed and gotten hurt by his evasion.

 

“I’m still sorry for avoiding you, though.”

 

“Hmm, I believe you have already made reparations for that, quite thoroughly and pleasurably, might I add.” Hannibal reassured him. “Now, I need to place these lovely roses in water, but afterwards, perhaps a shower for us both?” He suggested.

 

Will nodded, slipping off of Hannibal’s lap and admiring his disheveled and frankly debauched appearance, half-undressed and draped over the couch, hair falling into his eyes. “I wish I could draw.” Will admitted with a rueful smile, which Hannibal returned with his own, mildly surprised.

 

“I’d draw you the way you are right now.” Will said.

 

“How do you see me right now, Will?” Hannibal asked curiously, head tilted just a fraction.

 

“Ethereal and powerful, like a god.” Will said. “Heartbreakingly beautiful.”

 

Hannibal considered this a moment before nodding and standing. “It is only right, then, that the way you see me is reflected in the way I see you.”

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S OVER  
> IT'S FINISHED  
> HOLY SHIT  
> No really, I feel so bad that it's taken me this long to finish this lol. I mean I could blame it on the fact that DogsDogs has taken over my life almost entirely and then Dr. Strange came out and caused further distraction but really I just suck haha  
> SOOOO thank you to everyone who's stuck around with me for this journey, sorry you had to wait so long for it's conclusion, BUT this chapter is like 10k, with two separate smut scenes, so maybe that makes up for its tardiness? Yeah, I know it doesn't lol   
> ANYWAY  
> So yeah, all mistakes are mine, etc. Hope y'all like it! ♥

“There are packages to be delivered today, but I must ask you not to open them, Will.” Hannibal told him, walking into the living room, tablet in hand. It had been a couple days since they’d made up, and now it was almost as if it’d never happened. However, there did seem to be a newfound awareness of the other. Perhaps a minute, subtle shift in their dynamic.

 

“Sure, okay.” Will agreed. “But can I ask why?”

 

“Certainly. They are supplies for our Christmas dinner, supplies that I would rather surprise you with at the appropriate time.”

 

Knowing Hannibal, it could be anything from a tailored suit, (because Hannibal probably had his measurements already, somehow) to antique candlesticks that had once belonged to Napoleon, to a bottle of wine identical to the first wine they ever drank together. Really, Hannibal’s surprises could be anything (or any _ one _ ).

 

“Alright, I won’t even touch them.” Will agreed. “We’re getting close.” He pointed out.

 

“Excited, Will?”

 

“You could say that.” He smirked.

 

“I find myself feeling much the same.” Hannibal agreed. “Anything interesting?” He asked, nodding at the open Tattle Crime page Will had opened on the laptop. He walked around the couch and sat at the opposite end, lazily scrolling through something on his tablet.

 

Will shook his head. “Nope, there was a triple homicide in London that Freddie thinks might have been us, but no word on if that’s what the FBI thinks. I think that the ‘murder husbands’ merchandise craze is dwindling and she’s grasping at straws.”

 

Hannibal nodded, “Perhaps. It won’t be long before there are others to take our places in the media.”

 

“Does that bother you?” Will asked, glancing up at him.

 

“Not particularly, and not at the moment. The spotlight shall be ours precisely when we want it to be.” Hannibal pointed out. “And a distraction is always good. I’d consider contacting another of my more  _ promising  _ former patients if I weren’t still in the country. Perhaps later.”

 

Will snorted in mirth. “Just how many murder acolytes have you managed to gather over the years?”

 

“How many strays have you gathered? Or rather,  _ would  _ you gather?” Hannibal countered.

 

“Fair.” Will grinned. “Speaking of which-”

 

“Absolutely not, Will. Not until we are safely out of the country, if then.” Hannibal said dismissively, making Will chuckle with amusement.

 

“Alright, so the second our feet touch foreign soil...” Will teased.

 

Hannibal shot him a dry look, but didn’t bother to comment further. Will grinned, turning to slip his feet into Hannibal’s lap just to see what he’d do.

 

Hannibal, predictably, lay a hand on one of his ankles, thumb rubbing circles against the protruding bone. After a few moments Will assumed that it was as far as Hannibal would go, and he settled back into the article he was reading.

 

Will had gotten immersed in what he’d been reading, so he nearly startled when he felt Hannibal slip his socks off. He raised his eyes questioningly, but Hannibal wasn’t looking at his face. No, he’d put aside his iPad, and now was examining Will’s feet in a way that Will thought he ought to find invasive and weird.

 

Hannibal gently massaged the tops of his feet first, tracing the delicate bones and musculature, running his thumbs against the veins and arteries that were visible just beneath the skin. Then he moved on to Will’s toes, rolling each one between thumb and forefinger in a way that looked strange but that felt surprisingly good and had Will wondering if Hannibal was going to break out into  _ “this little piggy...” _

 

However, when Hannibal’s attentions turned to the soles of his feet, Will nearly melted. Hannibal dug his thumbs into the arch of his foot, and Will tensed briefly before relaxing entirely with a loud moan.

 

“ _ Hannibal _ ...” He gasped.

 

Hannibal quirked an eyebrow, “Is all of you quite this sensitive, Will? One would think you had never been touched before.”

 

Will mock-glared. “It’s all you, and you know it.”

 

Hannibal raised one of Will’s feet and ducked to kiss the ball of his foot.

 

“No, Hannibal-” Will protested, tugging his foot back.

 

“What is it, Will?” Hannibal asked.

 

“That’s gross. Don’t kiss my feet...” He objected, face scrunching up in distaste.

 

“Will.” Hannibal said. “There isn’t an inch of your body I would not gladly kiss, if you would allow it.”

 

Which of course made Will’s mind jump to exactly the places Hannibal wanted it to, turning Will a most fetching shade of pink.

 

“I...don’t know what to say to that.” Will admitted quietly.

 

Hannibal released his feet, opting instead to reach over Will, taking the laptop from him and setting it on the coffee table, before crawling up the length of his body. Weight suspended by forearms braced on either side of Will’s head, full, pouty lips descended on Will’s, lipping at his bottom lip in soft, teasing kisses.

 

“How could I not want to taste every bit of you? Soft and sweet beneath me?” Hannibal murmured, lips brushing with each word until Will’s mouth dropped open invitingly.

 

Will’s fingers gripped the sides of Hannibal’s shirt, feeling the beginnings of Hannibal’s love handles, the plushness within his grasp. He pulled Hannibal down on him more completely, humming happily at the full weight of him against his body, his heaving chest.

 

“I want you...” Will whispered, licking a stripe up Hannibal’s jugular and ending with a sharp suck at his jawline.

 

“Mmm, you have me already...” Hannibal replied, more a vibration in his chest than audible words. He returned to Will’s mouth, plush, silken lips sliding against Will’s own, cherry red and slick with spit. Hannibal kissed him like he was something precious, something to revere. He kissed him like his mouth was fragile, and only the delicate curve of Hannibal’s lips was gentle enough, suitable enough, to cradle Will’s between their petal-softness.

 

The tenderness made Will tremble and ache, his tongue peeking out to trace Hannibal’s cupid’s bow, flicking against the contours that teased him so deliciously. He sucked that full bottom lip into his own mouth, twin desires to suck and bite warring within him. He forewent the latter, not able to bring himself to mar the sculpted perfection, the satin slide of lips softer even, than the tip of the man’s cock. With that thought, Will’s legs fell open and his knees drew up, welcoming Hannibal into the cradle of his hips as he ground up into him.

 

A broken moan tore through them both and Will wrapped his limbs around Hannibal tightly, as if to meld them together permanently. Hannibal seemed to be of the same mind, because he started to sit up, bringing Will along with him. It was disorienting at first, as Hannibal moved to stand, and Will only clung on tighter as large palms gripped his ass and held him up securely as Hannibal began walking towards their bedroom.

 

“ _ Oh my god. _ ” Will laughed. “Why are you carrying me? You’re insane.”

 

“So I’ve been told.” Hannibal agreed. “I even have the paperwork to prove it.” He said, depositing Will on the bed and breaking away to undress as Will did the same.

 

“I suppose I may as well let you have your way with me...” Will suggested, eyebrows raised provocatively. “...since there’s no arguing with crazy.”

 

Hannibal hummed in agreement, both of them now wonderfully bare for the open enjoyment of the other. “I suppose you must, yes.”

 

“Whatever will you do with me, Doctor Lecter?” Will asked, affecting a softer, innocent-sounding tone. Hie eyes widened in a parody of concern, of wary trust.

 

Hannibal’s eyes danced with amusement, but his face was a arranged into a serious, professional mask. “A great many things, Mr. Graham.” He said, continuing with the pretense. “I’m afraid you may be in need of serious medical attention.”

 

“Oh?” Will asked in mock-surprise. “Would an injection help, do you think?” He asked, only barely managing not to dissolve into a fit of giggles.

 

Hannibal himself looked to be on the verge of rolling his eyes. “Is that what you believe would cure you of your affliction, Mr. Graham?” Hannibal asked, running a poignant hand over the front of Will’s pants. 

 

Will nodded, “Oh yes, Doctor, please.” He agreed, nodding his head and arching into the touch. “Will it hurt very much?” He asked coyly. “I’ve never had a butt injection before...”

 

“Honestly, Will. A _ ‘butt injection’ _ ?” Hannibal asked incredulously, pulling his hand away, and that was the end of it, Will collapsing back onto the bed as he burst into laughter.

 

“The  _ look  _ on your face!” Will gasped between laughs. “I didn’t think you’d actually play along.” He admitted.

 

Hannibal gave a longsuffering sigh. “I indulge you too much, perhaps.” he mused. 

 

“Or not nearly enough.” Will suggested with a grin. “Now, have I completely killed the mood?” Will asked, only slightly worried about the answer. Even if he had, it really wouldn’t be that difficult to persuade Hannibal to continue down the path of mutual orgasms. 

 

Hannibal crawled over Will’s body, supine as he gazed up at Hannibal with undisguised want. “What would you like, dear boy?” Hannibal asked, pressing sucking kisses to Will’s throat that stole his breath away. 

 

Will considered the question before wrapping his legs around the backs of Hannibal’s and pulling him down to lay flush against him. “I want you just like this.” Will whispered, threading his fingers through Hannibal’s hair messily. “I want to rut against you like a teenager while you kiss me senseless.” His words interrupted by Hannibal’s answering moan. “Just like our first time on the boat.” He murmured. 

 

“Messy boy.” Hannibal murmured approvingly. He was only too willing to oblige, though, settling them both more fully on the bed before he went back to kissing Will the way he had when they laid on the couch. With the first lick into Will’s open and eager mouth, Will arched up, grinding against Hannibal’s erection which pressed hot and heavy against his own. They were separated only by the fabric of their thin sleep pants which they rarely bothered to change out of, and Will could easily feel the heat of Hannibal sliding against him in delicious friction. 

 

Hannibal, lover of symmetry, slid his tongue against Will’s in the same rhythm as their cocks. After a moment, Will found himself on top of Hannibal as the world tilted and Hannibal lay beneath him. Will grinned against Hannibal’s mouth as his hands found their way to Will’s ass, clearly the reason why Hannibal had flipped them over. 

 

Hannibal kneaded the flesh in his palms, pressing them more fully together in time with each thrust of his hips against Will’s. Will, for his part, was already embarrassingly close to coming, just from this alone, and he marvelled, not for the first time, at the effect that Hannibal had on him. 

 

“Fuck, Hannibal...” He moaned, his head tilted backwards as Hannibal sucked biting kisses into the skin of his throat. “I’m so close already...” He whined, hands still tugging on silken strands of Hannibal’s hair. 

 

Hannibal moaned his agreement, fingers now digging cruelly into the meat of Will’s ass in a way that Will knew would leave bruises. He’d feel them every time he sat down for the next few days, and the thought only made him press harder into Hannibal’s grip. 

 

“Show me, Will.” Hannibal gasped, sounding dangerously close as well. 

 

“Sho- show you what?” Will moaned, too close to the edge to be able to follow a train of thought, let alone a conversation. 

 

“Your pleasure, Will.” Hannibal panted, “Come for me, my darling.” He directed, sounding far too put together still. 

 

Will arched his back in a gasp, oh so close. “Only-only if you do too.” He managed to piece together through the fog of lust that clouded his mind. 

 

“Always, my love.” Hannibal agreed, and with another slide of their erections, slick with precome within their - now damp - cotton confines, they came within mere moments of each other. Will tumbling over the precipice first, and coaxing Hannibal over with him with his sweet cries of pleasure and with the hot spurts of his release that Hannibal could feel through the thin material that separated them. 

 

“Oh god, I love you. I love you...” Will mumbled into Hannibal’s neck as he slumped against him, coming down from his _ frankly fantastic _ orgasm. 

 

“And I, you, Will.” Hannibal murmured back, running his hands up and down Will’s back in gentle strokes. 

 

They stayed that way for an immeasurable amount of time, listening to each other’s breaths and heartbeats as they both slowed to normal

 

\---------

 

After that, the days seemed to pass by in a blur, every moment drawing them closer to the final dinner they were both anticipating with a kind of nervous enthusiasm. 

 

Christmas Day was on Friday. They arrived Wednesday afternoon. 

 

Bedelia was out of the house, running some errand or other. Will didn’t care. Hannibal had mentioned it, briefly, but it wasn’t important, not really. 

 

The houses in her neighborhood were widely-spaced, which made it easier for Will to park alongside the house, near the gate to the backyard. The truck was mostly covered by foliage, and even then, it wasn’t likely that the neighbors would take an interest in its presence. 

 

The bed of the pickup was full, even when Will had loaded it in the morning with their luggage. In addition to the parcels Hannibal had received through the mail, there were also dozens of bricks and several large logs of wood. Will assumed they had to do with dinner preparations, and figured he’d find out when he needed to. They entered through the backyard and picked the lock on the patio door. It was pride, probably, or apathy, that kept Bedelia from investing in an alarm system. 

 

The house was empty as they knew it would be, and they wordlessly got to work. 

 

Hannibal unloaded his parcels and took them to the kitchen where he began to unwrap a few of them. Will took their luggage and, in a moment of spite, decided to commandeer Bedelia’s bedroom. She wouldn’t really be needing it during their visit. 

 

Her room was immaculate, everything in its place and not a wrinkle on the heavy duvet. The room, much like the rest of the house, was devoid of personality. It might as well have been a model home. It even smelled neutral, at least it did to Will’s nose. 

 

Will took great enjoyment from throwing himself on her bed, easily the most expensive and comfortable bed he’d ever laid on. Taking advantage of the fact that he knew Hannibal wouldn’t be around to see him act so childishly, Will searched the ensuite bathroom for a pair of scissors, which he found, and then immediately walked to Bedelia’s closet. She would no longer be needing the left legs of her pants. 

 

There were an unsatisfying number of pants to mutilate, since she seemed to prefer skirts anyway. This unfortunate development meant that Will had to get a little more creative. She’d only need one sock out of every pair, and the same was true for her shoes. He supposed both legs of pantyhose were also overkill. Honestly, he was doing her such a favor. Trying to match socks was always a tedious chore, and she wouldn’t have to worry about that ever again. 

 

The carnage was cathartic in its brutality and Will couldn’t deny the thrill he felt.  _ Doing bad things to bad people feels good _ . Although he doubted this was what Hannibal had envisioned at the time. 

\------

 

When he was done unpacking their things, since Hannibal could not abide wrinkles on his own clothing, Will wandered downstairs to look for Hannibal, whom he found outside, slowly digging a hole. Slowly because he wasn’t quite in the shape he was accustomed to being, and so had to stop to catch his breath frequently. 

 

“I thought we said we weren’t going to kill her?” Will teased, nodding at the hole. It was just shy of three feet wide and four feet long. 

 

“Have you heard of pit-roasting, Will?” 

 

Hannibal hadn’t shared his dinner plans with Will until now, aside from knowing that they’d be taking a leg (Will’s suggestion) and that Bedelia would be joining them for dinner (Hannibal’s desire). “Commonly reserved for pigs and lambs.” Will mused. “She’s hardly a lamb.” 

 

“Quite.” Hannibal huffed in amusement. “I did not, however, accurately predict how much exertion would be necessary to complete this. I’m afraid the ground is a good deal harder than I anticipated.” 

 

“Here, let me help you then.” Will offered, walking down the porch stairs to the area Hannibal had chosen as the dig site. 

 

Hannibal nodded gratefully, passing him the shovel. “Thank you. I believe we should have brought a pickaxe as well.” 

 

Will drove the shovel into the earth with his boot, pressing his full weight behind it. Even so, it only sunk in about halfway. “Fuck. The ground is frozen.” He complained, but kept going. 

 

Hannibal stood off to the side, catching his breath. “It will need to be about three, possibly three and a half feet deep.” He pointed out. It was maybe a foot deep already, but that was a generous estimation. 

 

“Fuck.” Will repeated. “What else do we need for this? I’m guessing we can’t just toss a part of her in the pit and call it done?” Satisfying as it might be. 

 

“Unfortunately not.” Hannibal agreed. “The bricks we brought will need to line the pit, of course, to distribute the heat evenly. Then the wooden logs I have procured will need to be burnt down to coals.” 

 

“Why not just use charcoal?” Will panted, feeling sweat begin to bead at his forehead as he worked, which he wiped away with a drag of his sleeve.  

 

“It would affect the taste, Will. We may as well do this properly if we’re to do it at all.” Hannibal said simply.  

 

The use of ‘we’ warmed Will, even having heard it frequently enough from Hannibal over the past weeks. He couldn’t help but wish there was an easier solution that didn’t involve this level of manual labor, though. 

 

“Okay, so we make coals, then what?” 

 

“Then we wrap the meat, lower it into the pit, cover it, and cook it for about twelve hours.” 

 

“I’m sorry,  _ twelve _ ?”

 

“Yes. It is essential that the meat be roasted slowly over a long period of time to ensure the desired tenderness.” 

 

“She’s anything but tender, Hannibal. You sure it’s not a lost cause?” 

 

“Of course not, Will.” Hannibal smiled. “The chef is always responsible for the outcome of the meal. The meat can’t help itself.” 

 

Will rolled his eyes and kept digging. 

 

“So what about when she gets back home?” Will asked some time later, the hole a good foot deeper than it had been. 

 

Hannibal motioned for his turn with the shovel before answering. “We’ll sedate her, of course. I don’t need her conscious for the removal of the leg, nor the moments leading up to dinner.” 

 

“Won’t the sedatives make the meat taste funny?” Will asked, handing the shovel over and standing off to the side while Hannibal took his turn. 

 

“Not necessarily. I have a specialized formula that I used while Dr. Gideon was my houseguest. It took some trial and error to detect, but what lingering taste there may be, with this formula, does nothing but compliment the meat.” 

 

Will shook his head fondly, of  _ course  _ Hannibal would have this down to a science. 

 

\--------

 

The pit took a while to dig out, the weak winter sun having dropped beneath the horizon some time ago. However, there was enough time for Hannibal to start on their actual dinner for the night before Bedelia came home. They were expecting her, of course. She had a much newer car, and an expensive model, at that. It came with a built-in gps that wasn’t that difficult to hack into. 

 

Hannibal said he’d taught himself how to do it. Will figured that was Hannibal for “I googled it.” 

 

Either way, an alert went off on Hannibal’s phone when she was a few blocks away, giving them enough time to shut off the lights and give the impression that the house was just as empty as she’d left it. 

 

It was child’s play, really. She didn’t seem to sense anything was amiss until after she’d fully stepped inside the house, and likely smelled the dinner that was cooking. Will watched from a doorway, cloaked in darkness, as her eyes widened a split second before one of Hannibal’s hands clamped down on her mouth, while the other injected her with a fast-acting sedative. Within seconds, she’d slumped against Hannibal, utterly limp and boneless. 

 

From there, it wasn’t difficult to move her to one of the guest bedrooms and connect her to the IV drip that would make sure she wouldn’t wake up until after her leg had been removed. Will thought they’d remove it immediately after sedating her, but Hannibal preferred the meat to be as fresh as possible. Besides, they’d need time for the hormones released in her split-second of panic to leave her bloodstream. 

 

Once she was safely situated in the room, they returned to the kitchen where Hannibal was searing steaks while Will worked on chopping ingredients for the salad. 

 

“I still can’t believe this isn’t all just a dream.” Will admitted, glancing at Hannibal from beneath his eyelashes, a small smile teasing at his lips. 

 

Hannibal returned the smile, his eyes darkening with arousal that he refused to acknowledge. “I feel much the same.” Hannibal agreed. “I often wonder if perhaps I have found a way to travel to an alternate dimension in which the teacup was never shattered, but perhaps only chipped.”

 

Finished with the chopping, Will walked behind Hannibal and wrapped arms around his middle, burying his face between Hannibal’s shoulderblades. “I’m sorry...” He whispered softly, just loud enough for Hannibal to hear. 

 

“For what, dear Will?” Hannibal asked, briefly pressing an affectionate hand to Will’s where they lay clasped against his belly (which had begun to return to it’s previous state, albeit slowly). 

 

“For taking this long to get my shit together.” Will mumbled, curving a plaintive smile against the fine linen of Hannibal’s shirt. 

 

Hannibal was quiet for a long moment, prompting Will to wonder if he should have just stayed silent, before Hannibal let out a soft sigh. “One cannot rush perfection.” He said, plating the steaks and turning in Will’s arms to press a kiss to his forehead. “I would not have it any other way, Will, for fear that the outcome might not turn out as divine as this one has.” 

 

Will brought his hands to cup the sides of Hannibal’s face, as Hannibal’s drifted to rest on the curve of his ass. “I love you, for far longer than I wanted to believe.” He confessed, pressing his lips to Hannibal’s. 

 

Hannibal melted into the kiss, a soft exhalation through his nose that might have been meant as a sigh. Their tongues slid against each other wetly, slowly igniting a desperation that would have to be postponed until after dinner. 

 

“And I you, my darling.” Hannibal replied, breaking away from the kiss to chastely press his lips to Will’s cheek. “Now come, dinner won’t taste as good when it’s cold.” 

 

\------

 

The following day and a half was filled with activity. Hannibal was vigilantly monitoring his burning fire pit, and when he was satisfied that the coals were forming nicely, he went in search of Will. Hannibal found him browsing pet adoption listings. 

 

“Again, Will?” Hannibal asked. “I believe we agreed-”

 

“-not until we leave the country, I know.” Will interrupted with a grin. “Doesn’t mean I can’t look.” 

 

Hannibal shook his head fondly, “I need you, Will.” 

 

Will raised both eyebrows, “Oh? Is that so?” He grinned. “For yardwork or sexy things?” He asked, lasciviously eying Hannibal up and down. 

 

Hannibal gave a mock-exasperated sigh, “Honestly, Will. Is that all that occupies your mind?” 

 

Will pretended to think. “Hmm, let’s see...there’s dogs, your dick, puppies, and fishing.” 

 

“You mean to tell me I come second in your mind to dogs?” Hannibal asked, affronted. 

 

“Of course not. I didn’t say the list was in any particular order.” 

 

“And yet, that was the order in which they came to mind in order to speak.” Hannibal accused. 

 

“Well I was looking at dogs before you got here, so I guess you’ll just have to whip your dick out to change that.” Will grinned. 

 

“As undoubtedly appealing as that sounds, Will, I do actually need your help.” Hannibal reminded him. 

 

“Alright, alright. Maybe later then. What do you need?” Will conceded. 

 

“It is time to harvest the meat for tomorrow’s dinner. I could use an extra pair of hands.” 

 

“Sure.” Will said, a little too eagerly to be appropriate. He knew Hannibal wouldn’t mind, though. ‘Appropriate’ hadn’t really had a place in their lives for a while now. 

 

Hannibal had arranged the tools he would need in the spare bedroom that Bedelia was kept in. Will had asked if they were going to work someplace that would be easier to clean. Hannibal’s response had been, “Why would I do that, when I do not intend to clean it?” 

 

It seemed that they both had their own choice methods of spiting Bedelia. 

 

Since she was already drugged, Hannibal only upped the dosage enough to ensure she would not wake during the amputation. Despite the decidedly unprofessional nature of what they were about to do, Hannibal still went about it entirely seriously. He scrubbed down and had apparently procured a full surgeon’s outfit, which he now wore. He carefully disinfected the leg and began to mark the incision site with a felt-tip marker. 

 

Will, on the other hand, had been given a set of white scrubs (which were really very revealing, all things considered) and a set of gloves. 

 

“Nurse, the scalpel, if you please.” Hannibal asked, extending his hand. 

 

Will rolled his eyes and handed it over. That was also new. He was  _ pretty sure _ this kind of roleplay wasn’t done with sexual motivations...but this was Hannibal and...it could go both ways, really. _ Not unlike the man himself. Hah _ . 

 

Still, the procedure was interesting. Watching Hannibal peel back the skin which would later be folded over the stump of her leg, and then begin cutting through layers of muscle and fat. The latter of which there wasn’t much of. 

 

The relevant veins and arteries were tied off, cut and cauterized. The tissue cut and pried away from the bone, and then Hannibal requested the bone saw. The sound it made was...gruesome, and it reverberated through Will’s entire body.

 

When the leg was fully severed, it was almost surreal, the way that it just...wasn’t attached anymore. It wasn’t a body, it was meat. Will could understand now how Hannibal could live this kind of lifestyle, because once reduced to their base components, you weren’t really eating a person anymore. It was a leg, a lung, a liver. No longer a part of a whole. 

 

The bed was a bloody mess when they were done, but Hannibal left it. The muscle, then the skin, was sutured over the bone, and the entire stump bandaged neatly. Really, it was quite impressive how fast Hannibal was at this. The entire ordeal took only about a couple hours, whereas Will thought the procedure would have taken the entire afternoon. 

 

The leg itself was surprisingly heavy, and Will helped Hannibal carry it out to the kitchen, where he laid it on Bedelia’s marble countertops. “I do miss the band saw I had specifically for these purposes...” Hannibal commented as he began to saw the foot off a bit above the ankle. 

 

Will leaned back against refrigerator and watched Hannibal work as he trimmed and then seasoned the meat, before wrapping it in banana leaves. Where Hannibal had found banana leaves in the dead of winter, Will knew better than to ask. He was sure that the price tag attached in acquiring them would be enough to make him slightly nauseous in a way that not even human meat could do. He was slowly learning that aesthetics mattered more to Hannibal than trivialities like money. Fortunate for him, he had both in spades. 

 

When the leg was ready, wrapped up tight and bundled to prevent it from getting dirty, Will helped Hannibal move it outside and lower it into the pit carefully. They worked to cover it with coals and then fill the pit in with dirt to keep the heat trapped inside. Tomorrow. Tomorrow they would feast. 

 

In the meantime, though... 

 

“So...” Will started casually as they reentered the house. “It’s Christmas Eve...” 

 

Hannibal raised his eyes. “It is, yes...” 

 

“Did you ever have any Christmas traditions?” He asked. Will had spent the week researching possible traditions that Hannibal might have shared with his family as a child, and the more he thought about it, the more he realized that he wanted to give that to Hannibal, if possible. 

 

Hannibal frowned softly in a way that Will knew meant that he was revisiting his childhood. “There were some traditions that we kept, yes...but I haven’t considered observing them for a great many years.” He admitted. “It seemed...paltry to attempt to do alone.” 

 

Will nodded with understanding. He never celebrated Christmas with anything other than a bottle of whiskey when he lived alone. It was a time for family, for togetherness...and trying to celebrate it would only have made his solitude that much more poignant. 

 

“Maybe...we can...have some traditions of our own?” Will suggested. “Pieces from our memories that we miss, or that are especially nostalgic?” 

 

Hannibal’s answering smile was so pleased that Will felt immensely glad that he’d even thought of it. “There are a certain dishes that I will admit are nostalgic to me...” He said. “I had already planned to make them, truthfully.” 

 

Will smirked, “Just hoping I’d go along with it?” He teased. “Or were you going to tell me at all?” 

 

Hannibal had the grace to blush softly, “I did not wish for you to feel...smothered...by the significance that our first Christmas holds for me.” He said, busying himself with folding and refolding a kitchen towel. 

 

“Hey, it’s alright, it means a lot to me, too.” Will said earnestly, a hand covering Hannibal’s, stilling his fidgeting. “I didn’t have a lot of Christmas traditions growing up, but I want to make this special for us.” 

 

Hannibal ducked his head to steal a kiss from Will’s lips, but was it really stealing when he had every right to do so? Will drew him closer, humming softly into Hannibal’s mouth before pulling away, lest they get too carried away too soon. 

 

“Traditionally, we placed a higher importance on Christmas Eve than Christmas Day.” Hannibal said, just a bit breathlessly. “There were twelve separate dishes served for dinner, after a day of fasting. They represented the twelve disciples of Jesus.” He explained. “The children would go to bed afterwards and the adults would go to midnight mass. You’ll understand that I wish no part of that.” 

 

Will chuckled, “Yeah, I can imagine. Did your family exchange presents?” He asked. 

 

“They did. But it wasn’t anywhere near the...extravagance that the western world seems fond of. While we were wealthy, each person received a single gift.” He explained. 

 

Will nodded, “We didn’t always do presents, but when we did, there were usually two. One to open Christmas Eve, and one to open in the morning.” 

 

“Hmm, I must say that there are some benefits to such a tradition...” Hannibal mused. “Some gifts are perhaps easier to enjoy then than others.” 

 

“What? Like new pajamas? That was a pretty usual night-before gift for us.” Will chuckled. 

 

“Yes. Among other things.” Hannibal said, a twinkle in his eye that immediately worried Will just a little. 

 

He might have continued along that train of thought, but a timer went off on the oven and Hannibal was once more focused on dinner. Will just shook his head bemused, and began gathering the silverware to set the table. 

 

“ _ Silkė _ .” Hannibal announced, rolling in a cart filled with several serving trays. The first of which he lifted onto the table, revealing a platter of fish in some kind of tomato-based sauce. “Herring. Seafood was the only acceptable meat to serve on this day, according to my mother.” He explained. “Also, beet soup with mushroom dumplings...” He said, lifting a bowl onto the table. “...baked potatoes, sauerkraut, cranberry kissel...” And Will could feel his mouth watering. Everything Hannibal cooked smelled and tasted delicious, he’d never know that not to be the case.

 

“ _ Kūčiukai _ ,” Hannibal went on, “or small, sweet biscuits soaked in poppy milk, is another traditional dish. One that I remember quite fondly. I have never been able to recreate exactly how my mother made it, but this is my closest approximation.” 

 

“The biscuits are traditionally a form of ritual bread, sized down to appeal to souls which are smaller and lack material bodies.” Hannibal smirked at this.

 

Will’s eyebrows raised, “How many souls are we sharing with?” 

 

“I suppose that depends. I’m sure my family would have said that we share the meal with our ancestors, with family that has long departed.”

 

“You don’t agree?” 

 

“If spirits share my table...I believe they would have also appeared  _ on  _ my table.” Hannibal quipped. 

 

Will snorted softly, “I guess that’s not beyond the realm of possibilities, if we’re entertaining the existence of spirits at all.” 

 

“Indeed. I generally prefer not to, however.” Hannibal said simply, and it wasn’t difficult for Will to understand why. For one, it would undoubtedly be easier to cope with the loss of his family if they were truly gone. The idea that some fragment of them still walked the earth, and Hannibal unable to reach them...no, it was far too cruel. 

 

Will said nothing, instead reaching for Hannibal’s hand and interlacing their fingers. The gesture had become something incredibly comforting and familiar and it visibly soothed Hannibal, even though he’d not exhibited outward signs of distress before. Still, Will knew better. 

 

After dinner, Will helped clear the dishes, and they washed them side-by-side, with Will drying. When they were done, they retired to the living room, where Hannibal brought out twin mugs of hot chocolate. “Mmm...” Will hummed appreciatively as he sniffed it, still too hot to drink. “My dad used to melt a candy cane in our hot chocolate.” Will shared, curling up against Hannibal’s side as they sat on the couch. 

 

“I believe that could be arranged.” Hannibal said, seeming to pull a candy cane out of thin air as he handed it over to Will. 

 

“What? How?” He asked, laughing disbelievingly. “I cannot believe...was that in your pocket? For how long?” 

 

“Long enough.” Hannibal complained, but it was somewhat undermined by the smug look on his face at Will’s elation. “They seemed like the kind of festive, sugary confection you would enjoy...” He admitted. “Although I’m sure I can make a far superior version, of course.” 

 

“Of course.” Will agreed, peeling the thin plastic wrapper off and dunking it into his chocolate, hooking it over the rim. 

 

“Am I correct in assuming that a simple peppermint hot chocolate would not suffice, and that the significance lies in the candy itself?” He asked and Will nodded.

 

“I mean, I guess it’s both, but yeah. Candy canes...” Will chuckled as he remembered snippets of his childhood. “There was a girl I liked in elementary school. I was probably seven, I think. Every year I gave her a candy cane for Christmas, and she’d give me one back.”

 

Hannibal hummed in thought. “You associate candy canes with young love.” 

 

Will thought about it, ready to deny it, but no...that wasn’t too far off. “Does this mean you  _ like  _ like me, Doctor Lecter?” He asked, gesturing at the candy cane and looking up at Hannibal through his eyelashes in a way that should have looked contrived and awkward, but instead only made Hannibal’s mouth dry and his pants tight. 

 

“Very much so, Will.” Hannibal murmured, leaning in to kiss his neck, just behind his ear, delighting in the shivers that prompted from Will. 

 

Hannibal kept at it as Will tried to focus on sipping his chocolate, peppering his neck with chaste little kisses. Will obligingly tilted his head to allow Hannibal the access he sought, but soon his chocolate was forgotten half-finished as Will got impatient and gripped Hannibal by the front of his shirt and tugged his lips to his own. “Take me to bed, Hannibal.” He growled, and Hannibal...well, he certainly wasn’t going to argue. 

 

\--------

 

When Bedelia awoke, there was a split second in which she honestly couldn’t remember the last thing that had happened to her. Of course, that changed immediately as Hannibal’s face swam into focus and she gasped involuntarily, trying to move away, only to find herself firmly secured to a wheelchair. She’d been drugged, that much was obvious, and she blamed that for the way she didn’t immediately notice that something was...off. 

 

“Merry Christmas, Bedelia.” Hannibal said cheerfully, and she hardly had the energy to sneer at him, let alone respond with something appropriately scathing. 

 

She looked down at herself, noticing the expensive designer blue lace dress before she noticed that...she couldn’t quite feel her left leg. Understanding came in waves as she stared down at the bandaged stump, and her chest heaved as she began to hyperventilate, fingers scrabbling at the armrests, but rendered ineffectual by the straps that bound her wrists to the chair. 

 

“I still say we should have waited to wake her up.” Will commented from the doorway, where he leaned against the wall casually, arms crossed as he watched Bedelia with undisguised disdain. 

 

“And I told you, Will, it’s immensely challenging to dress hair on a corpse.” Hannibal commented, and Bedelia realized that he was doing just that - curling her hair. She jerked away, but Hannibal merely tutted disapprovingly. “I would advise against that. I am working with a very hot instrument, and while I do not wish to burn you, I will not stop for having done so.” Bedelia kept still. 

 

“Nothing to say?” Will needled. “I’m surprised. You had  _ so  _ much to say the last time we spoke.” 

 

“I have nothing to say to you.” 

 

“No?” Will asked, eyebrows rising. 

 

“I believe it would not be incorrect to say that our dear Doctor DuMaurier simply cannot  _ stand  _ you, Will.” Hannibal piped up from behind her and Will sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

 

“We talked about this, Hannibal.” 

 

“Of course. I apologize, Will.” Hannibal grinned, but didn’t seem the slightest bit contrite. Will had to fight his own laughter. There was no need to encourage him. 

 

When Hannibal was done, he wheeled Bedelia out to the dining table and helped her into an actual chair, one she was almost too drugged to sit in properly. Her leg was already served, a true masterpiece where it sat in the center of the table. 

 

Will returned to the kitchen to get the bottle of wine Hannibal had set out for the occasion (it did, in fact, turn out to be the same vintage as the very first they’d ever shared together, the romantic sap), while Hannibal rolled the wheelchair back into the bedroom. 

 

Returning, Will narrowed his eyes at Bedelia, believing that she was by far too calm, all things considered, even being drugged half out of her mind. Was she planning something? Apparently so, because as Hannibal returned, drawing closer to her to reach for her wineglass, she stabbed him in the thigh with a fork she’d slipped into her lap. It was a truly pitiful attempt and Will almost felt sorry for her. Almost. 

 

“Fear makes you rude, Bedelia.” Will chided as Hannibal hissed and pulled the fork loose. It hadn’t sunk very deep, but it was enough to sting. 

 

“I don’t believe you’re qualified to pass judgements on rudeness.” Bedelia commented, and Will just snorted. 

 

Hannibal poured the wine for the three of them and then began to carve the leg. “Now, I understand Bedelia, that you must be quite  _ beside yourself _ , but I believe that a civil Christmas dinner is not beyond our capabilities.” Hannibal said, a smirk teasing at his lips. “It is a rather special occasion for Will and I, after all.” He said, shooting Will an adoring look.

 

Will considered making a fuss about the pun, but disturbing the unfettered glee on Hannibal’s face would make that about as pleasurable as kicking a puppy.  _ Oh why the hell not? _ “In fact, if you can manage not to stick your foot in your mouth for the duration of the evening, I’ll be dully impressed.” Will said dryly. 

 

Hannibal looked at Will with such abject love and adoration that Will thought he could nearly see Hannibal’s pupils turn heart-shaped. Christ. Amazing what a shitty pun would do. Will was suddenly very aware of his cock and the way it plumped up at Hannibal’s look. God, it was like a Pavlovian response, by this point. That look on Hannibal’s face promised many fantastic orgasms in their near future and Will wondered if he’d manage to make it through without embarrassing himself. 

 

“You both are nauseating.” Bedelia commented, still not having touched her plate. 

 

Will very pointedly took a bite, savoring it and humming his appreciation.

 

“How is it, Will?” Hannibal asked. 

 

“Mmm...bitter. But delicious.” He said, mostly for Bedelia’s benefit. He and Hannibal both knew the meat was perfect. Hannibal never served anything less. 

 

“Hannibal cultivated my flavor while in Florence.” She commented pointedly. “I’m sure he has no complaints.” 

 

Will narrowed his eyes at her, catching her meaning and congratulating himself for deciding to eat her after all. 

 

“You were never more than a diversion, Bedelia. The appetiser before the main course. The difference being that when Hannibal eats me...I keep all my parts.” Will snapped back, ignoring the way Hannibal seemed far too entertained by the whole exchange. 

 

“And yet, I have become the main course.” She said dryly, gesturing at her plate. 

 

“To be shoved into a doggy bag and reheated in a microwave a day later.” Will snarked. 

 

“You see me as leftovers. The remnants of your...feasts and revelries.” 

 

Will smiled a terrible, cruel smile. “Well if the shoe fits.” 

 

“The lines between you both truly have blurred, if you have now absorbed Hannibal’s abysmal sense of humor.” 

 

“You object because you’re the punchline.” 

 

“He will tire of you.” 

 

“You can’t tire of oxygen.”

 

“You imagine yourself essential to him. You have absorbed his vanity, then.” 

 

Will shrugged nonchalantly, “Amongst other things. Better to absorb than be absorbed, like in your case.” 

 

Hannibal watched the exchange, head turning as each took turns sniping at the other. He wondered for a moment if he ought to intervene, but he couldn’t imagine interrupting Will. Oh no, this was a side of Will that Hannibal loved to see. 

 

“I see your capacity for cruelty has been fully realized.” Bedelia commented. “I would rather you kill me.” 

 

“Yes, that would be easier for you, wouldn’t it? Better than living the rest of your life wondering  _ what if _ . Wondering if Hannibal or I are lurking behind the next corner. A lifetime of waiting for the other shoe to drop.” Will watched as Hannibal tried to subtly readjust his pants and was pleased he wasn’t the only one so affected. 

 

“I was under the impression that Hannibal was the sadist in the relationship, perhaps I was incorrect.” 

 

“Hmm, we cannot be so easily shoved into neat little boxes, Bedelia, you should know better than that.” 

 

“My dear Will is far too empathic to be a true sadist, I believe. His ability to place himself in another’s shoes is quite remarkable, I daresay.” Hannibal added. 

 

“How long are you going to insist on keeping this up?” Bedelia asked, seemingly bored. 

 

“Now now, Bedelia. I would suggest you...tread lightly.” Will cautioned. “Rudeness will not get you anywhere, you ought to know.” 

 

“Indeed, especially considering your earlier assault with the fork. I believe we have gotten off on the wrong foot, this evening.” Hannibal lamented. “While I admire your determination to stand up for yourself, you may have realized that would not be well-advised.” 

 

“That one wasn’t even subtle, Hannibal.” Will chided with a grin. 

 

“Oh, I apologise, were we aiming for subtlety? I was unaware. Forgive me, Will, but you’ve swept me quite off my feet, and now I fear I may have toed the line between what you are and are not willing to accept from me.” 

 

Will smirked, reaching a hand over to entwine his fingers with Hannibal’s. “Would you say you’re head over heels for me?” He asked, a light blush gracing his features. 

 

“Oh certainly, Will. I know we haven’t always gotten along, but I believe that now as we are at the start of our new life together, I would like to put my best foot forward. I love you more than life itself, darling boy.” 

 

Will’s eyebrows rose, noting a shift in tone from the playful banter that Bedelia had wisely chosen to ignore. “I love you too, Hannibal, you know this.” 

 

“I do, yes. It was...difficult to accept perhaps, in the beginning, but I wasn’t about to reject what I had been yearning for for so long.” He said, eyes misting over. 

 

“Oh Hannibal...come here.” Will stood, pushing his near-empty plates away and leaning against the table as Hannibal stood, pulling him close and nuzzling against his neck. Hannibal’s arms wound around Will’s shoulders, holding him tightly. “We’re together now, and that’s all that matters, right? We’re together, and nothing can ever tear us asunder.” 

 

Hannibal took in a shaky breath. “Indeed, Will. And...while I know that it would mean little in the eyes of the law, I have always maintained that this kind of binding is entirely between the parties involved. The government need not validate it...” 

 

“Hannibal?” Will asked tentatively, mind racing as he realized where this was going. Sure enough, a moment later and Hannibal was dropping to his knees. 

 

“Darling Will, you are the part of me I never knew I was missing until you walked into my life, bedraggled and cantankerous, and I knew then that you were different. I...have regrets, but given that my actions ultimately brought you into my arms, I cannot linger on what could have been, for now I have everything I could have ever wanted. You see me, Will. In a way no one ever has and no other ever will. You are in the very depths of my soul, and I would tie you to me in any manner possible, for I am selfish and cannot imagine ever letting you go.” He took a breath and Will was startled by the tears that clouded his own vision as he looked down at Hannibal, on his knees, clutching Will’s hand like a lifeline. 

 

“So would you do me this honor, Will? Allow me to make you my husband.” 

 

“Hannibal...of course I will.” Will answered, as if there had ever been a possibility of a different response. He leaned over Hannibal, cupping his face in his palms and kissed him deeply, satisfied with the quiet moan it drew from him. They pulled away after a moment, and mischief crept into Will’s eyes, a smirk curling his lips. “Besides...I already got a leg over.” 

 

Hannibal’s growl as he surged to his feet was drowned out by Will’s delighted laugh, happy to let himself be pressed back into the table and kissed within an inch of his life. Who knew that terrible puns were a surefire way to Hannibal’s heart? Will clung to Hannibal, a leg coming up to wrap around his waist. 

 

It was all fire and heat and passion, slick mouths sucking desperately, erections rubbing through designer clothes, undoubtedly smearing the insides of their underwear with precome, the silk growing slick and messy. Will certainly didn’t care, especially not when Hannibal’s nimble fingers tugged at his shirt, pulling it free from his pants and started to undo the buttons. 

 

“There are several bedrooms you can use...” Bedelia drawled from the other end of the table, all but forgotten. Hannibal had latched onto Will’s neck and was sucking loud, messy kisses into his skin. 

 

“Yeah we know, yours was -  _ ah! _ \- quite comfortable...” Will gasped, fingers digging into Hannibal's shoulders as Hannibal's hand snuck down the now undone front of his pants, wide palm cupping slick, hardened flesh. 

 

“I am going to be physically ill.” Bedelia complained, resolving to burn the sheets and everything else they may have touched, once they were gone. 

 

“Mmm, rude to do that to the food...” Hannibal mumbled against Will's neck. 

 

“Oh god, Hannibal...I want you to fuck me...” Will moaned, ignoring Bedelia outright. “We haven't done that yet, but I want it. I want you inside me...” 

 

“Yes...darling boy, allow me to take you to bed, spread you out on silken sheets and make love to you as I've desired since we awoke together, side by side...” 

 

Bedelia rolled her eyes, but no one noticed. Instead, their fevered touching seemed to be leading towards a premature conclusion, but Hannibal drew away at the last moment, hair disheveled, lips parted, and panting. 

 

“Here, perhaps you'd like to do the honors?” Hannibal asked, passing Will a syringe.

 

“With pleasure.” Will replied, taking it from his hand. He left the warm embrace of Hannibal’s arms to round the table and jab the needle into Bedelia's neck unceremoniously, such that even Hannibal winced. Will delivered the sedative, despite her feeble protests, and watched as she slumped out of the chair and fell on the floor. 

 

“Was that...truly necessary?” Hannibal asked, eyebrow raised. 

 

“Nope.” Will said, popping the ‘p’ sound matter-of-factly. “But it  _ was  _ immensely satisfying.” 

 

“Mmm, cruel boy...” Hannibal praised, drawing close to wrap arms around Will from behind and suck kisses behind his ear. 

 

“C’mon, help me move her so we can get back to where we were.” 

 

Hannibal acquiesced, and they set her back in the room she’d been occupying, reconnecting her to the IV that would keep her unconscious. 

 

“You said that the government had no say in what we are to one another, right?” Will asked, drawing Hannibal down the hallway to the master bedroom. 

 

“I did, yes...” Hannibal said, unsure where Will was going with this. 

 

“Well then...take me to bed,  _ husband _ .” Will requested, and was surprised by Hannibal stooping to lift him into a bridal carry, a surprised laugh bubbling out of his chest. “Oh my god!” He giggled, hiding his face in Hannibal’s shoulder as he was carried and then deposited carefully on the bed, Hannibal crawling over him immediately. 

 

He wasted no time in divesting them both of their shirts, and it wasn’t long before his hands were sneaking their way into Will’s pants, possessive and self-assured, knowing that Will wouldn’t push him away. 

 

It was a beautiful thing to know that one’s touches wouldn’t be rebuffed, that affection would be returned in kind, and they both basked in it. 

 

“I would still like a ceremony performed for the two of us...” Hannibal murmured, hands roaming Will's body, removing his clothing and enjoying the way their skin rubbed against the other. 

 

“Of course.” Will agreed. “I'd like that too.” he said, craning his neck for kisses, which Hannibal bestowed without hesitation. 

 

“Perhaps in Cuba? Tropical weather would suit any lingering soreness from our respective injuries. There is plenty of corruption, and thus plenty of dinner options. And most importantly-”

 

“-no extradition treaty with the US.” Will finished with a grin. 

 

“Precisely.” Hannibal agreed, eyes crinkled at the corners with amusement. 

 

“Mmm, do you even know Spanish?” Will asked breathlessly, gasping softly as Hannibal began to circle his entrance with lubed-up fingertips, getting Will used to the sensation. 

 

“ _ Por supuesto _ ...” Hannibal growled against his throat, gently slipping a finger inside of him. His voice made the words seem far filthier than they actually were, and Will blushed, cock twitching with desire. 

“Oh god...I don't think I'll be able to take it...” He whined, fingers carding through Hannibal's hair. “Your voice already ruins me...I don't think I'll survive listening to Spanish tumble from your mouth like sin and debauchery.” 

 

_ “Te voy a devorar completamente...”  _ Hannibal promised, licking a wet stripe up Will's cock before sucking him down to the root. 

 

“Fuck...I don't know what you're saying...but it doesn't even matter, it's so hot.” Will complained, his hands finding their way into his own hair as he tugged on the strands and let Hannibal have his way with him. Now stretching him with two fingers inside, loosening him up for his cock. 

 

“ _ Sabes delicioso, _ Will.” Hannibal murmured, pulling off to watch the way precome bubbled at the tip before licking it off delicately. “ _ Te mojas tan rico, y te quiero comer entero...”  _

 

“Goddamn, Hannibal...” Will moaned, “Just fuck me, I can't...I can't wait...” He begged and Hannibal had never been one to deny Will anything, and so his fingers slipped out and began to slick up his cock. 

 

“My perfect, beautiful boy...” Hannibal praised, lining his cock up, and notching it against his rim. “How I love you...” He whispered, pressing in gently, but firmly, adding more lubricant when it appeared to be needed. 

 

Will's mouth dropped open, eyes glassy and unseeing as Hannibal pushed inside him. His hands found their way to Hannibal's arms as he leaned over him, cock fully nestled in the hot clutch of Will's body. “You're inside me...I can feel you...” Will marveled.

 

“Oh dear Will, yes...” Hannibal groaned, breath labored as he struggled not to just start pounding away at Will. But as Will grew more used to the sensation, his hole fluttering around his cock, Hannibal began to roll his hips. He ground into Will gently, carefully, but it drove Will crazy as he craved more sensation, hips bucking up to meet Hannibal’s thrusts. 

 

It wasn’t the most comfortable thing to begin with, although the friction at the rim of his hole was pleasant in a way, and the way Hannibal stretched him open...well, that was perhaps more psychological in the way it affected Will. However, as Hannibal began to move faster, drawing out further only to push back inside, Will found he could easily get lost in the back and forth rhythm. 

 

He’d just about settled into a sense of calm, his muscles clenching with each withdraw, only to grow lax and pliant as Hannibal pressed inside him, when Hannibal apparently decided it wasn’t nearly enough. He pushed Will’s legs farther up, deepening the angle of penetration, and Will grabbed his own legs by the backs of his knees, eager to help. Sure enough it took only a couple thrusts before Hannibal brushed his prostate and Will cried out in surprise, abdominal muscles tensing with acute waves of pleasure. 

 

“Oh god...” He moaned, gasping out his pleasure as Hannibal grinned above him, all sinister teeth and mischievous eyes. Hannibal rode him hard, heeding Will’s cries for more, for harder, faster. There was nothing that he could hold back from Will, his back muscles coiling, bunching, and releasing as he pounded into him with reckless abandon. Will clung on for dear life, mouth slack, uttering sounds that couldn’t quite coalesce into actual words, but sounded like they could be syllables of Hannibal’s name - at least that’s what Hannibal wished to imagine. 

 

It wasn’t difficult to watch Will’s pleasure mounting, his cock slapping against his belly with each thrust, wet sounds as it slapped against the puddle of precome that had been slowly gathering against Will’s abdomen. Will’s cock was an angry red and swollen, the tip of his cock so engorged with blood it looked more purple than skin-tone, veins standing out against his skin in stark relief. Hannibal thought it was, perhaps, the most gorgeous thing he’d ever seen. Of course, he may also have been the slightest bit biased. 

 

“Hannibal....” Will whined pitifully, nails digging painfully into the soft skin behind his knees, desperate but unwilling to move from his position, unwilling to stop holding himself open for Hannibal to take, to claim as his. 

 

And oh, Will had always been Hannibal’s hadn’t he? Or was Hannibal his? The closer Will got to his climax, the more he realized that when he’d said he and Hannibal were conjoined, he hadn’t fully grasped just how true that was. They were so entwined, so entangled, that there was no separating one from the other. They were irreversibly changed by the other, nothing like who they were before they had met. 

 

“I’m gonna...” Will cried and Hannibal moaned in agreement. 

 

“Yes, Will. Come...let me see you...” 

 

And there was no way that Will could ever deny him that, gut clenching in pleasure as he spurt thick, hot ropes of come against his belly and chest. It was harder than he’d ever come in his life, and it felt like Hannibal was punching it out of him with his dick, shattering him into tiny pieces and then fitting him back together and sealing the cracks with gold, making him even better than before. 

 

Distantly he was aware of Hannibal’s orgasm as well as it filled him and Hannibal’s hips gradually stilled. Will lowered his legs and drew his arms around Hannibal’s waist, keeping Hannibal’s weight pressed against him in a way that was grounding, soothing in the best way. 

 

“ _ Amor de mi vida _ ...” Hannibal murmured into his neck, his face having found a home there, breathing in Will’s scent where it was strongest. “ _ Como te quiero _ ...” 

 

“I love you, too.” Will returned, having understood at least a couple words that time. Will supposed, as he lay there in Hannibal’s arms, entirely surrounded and kept by him, that perhaps that was just right. They belonged to each other now. Was that what marriage was? Will couldn’t say, he knew that what he had with Molly could never hope to compare. He hadn’t owned her. And she knew there was a part of Will, a large, Hannibal-shaped part, that she could never even hope to touch, let alone own. So no, this was nothing like that, it was entirely new. Rationally, Will knew it probably wasn’t healthy, this level of codependency, but he found that he didn’t really care. What did it matter when their worlds had narrowed down to just the two of them? 

 

Hannibal was the one to grab the wet wipes this time, cleaning them both off before drawing the blankets around them both and tugging Will to his chest. They didn’t always sleep like this, taking turns being the big and little spoon, but Will thought this was perfect, cocooned in the safety of Hannibal’s arms - and wasn’t that a thought that a few years ago he’d never have fathomed having?

 

It was amazing how things could and had changed for them, and beneath the bone-deep exhaustion from having been well-fucked, Will felt a sort of giddy excitement to see what the future would hold for them both. 

 

Hannibal sighed, as if he knew that Will’s mind was still racing even though he’d done his best to quiet those thoughts. “Your thoughts are...extraordinarily loud.” He teased mildly. 

 

“I’m excited.” Will confessed sleepily. “We’re getting married.” 

 

“Mmm.” Hannibal hummed, nosing into the nape of his neck, breathing him in. “Shall we send a wedding announcement to Jack?” He asked. 

 

“What did you have in mind?” Will asked with a chuckle. 

 

\----------

 

Three months later, Jack Crawford received a plain manila envelope, no return address, and no postage stamps. Someone had hand-delivered it to his mailbox. Strange. 

 

He opened it with some trepidation, not knowing what, exactly to expect. The pictures that tumbled out certainly were nothing he would have been able to guess if he’d tried. The pictures had a border of white lace and the words “Just Married!” in elegant cursive giving context to the photographs. 

 

In them, Hannibal Lecter smiled, a far happier and more genuine smile than anything Jack had ever seen on his face, and it was frankly disconcerting. Not more so, however, than the fact he was wearing a white t-shirt with the words “I’m the fucking Chesapeake Ripper” emblazoned on the front. It was bold, smug, and exactly the kind of thing Hannibal would do. Jack wondered if he’d gotten the shirts from Freddie Lounds. 

 

Will, however...Jack had never seen that look on his face, either. He looked happy, calm, content...and stable. In one picture he was looking at Hannibal with such a fond expression, it made Jack ill. In the largest, however, he and Hannibal were both facing the camera, and Will’s shirt read, in the same ridiculous font, “I’m fucking the Chesapeake Ripper”. Well. That was...something. 

 

There was a short note enclosed as well, penned in extremely familiar handwriting that gave Jack chills just to see it again. 

 

_ Dear Jack,  _

_ We simply wished to announce our recently-held wedding and express our congratulations for your decision to retire from the FBI. You truly were a wonderful agent, if not a bit careless with my dear Will. It’s a shame you are no longer granted access to our case files, but perhaps you could pass along the message that we have decided to hyphenate our last names, and thus our case should read “Hannibal and Will Lecter-Graham”. We simply want the authorities to have the most up-to-date information as possible. Thank you.  _

_ Do take care of yourself.  _

_ Sincerely,  _

_ Hannibal and Will Lecter-Graham.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh yeah, so Hannibal's Spanish:   
> -Of course  
> -I'm going to devour you completely   
> -You taste delicious; you get so deliciously wet for me, and I want to eat you entirely  
> -Love of my life, how I love/want you 
> 
> THIS HAPPENED BECAUSE OF THE CUBA REVELATIONS OKAY I COULD NOT RESIST  
> also, pls don't judge my Spanish dirty talk lol, while I do speak Spanish, I DO NOT use it for filth because...I don't even know. It's too powerful. You start saying dirty shit in Spanish and it's like 9000000% more dirty. It's a weapon you must wield wisely. Like the Death Star. No wait. Nvm.

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on [Tumblr](yggdrastiles.tumblr.com)


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